"It is full of the ghosts of my sorrows," she went on. "I have known misery here."
"And I one evening of happiness," he said, smiling.
Her eyes glowed for a moment, but she was disturbed, tremulous, agitated.
"I listen for footsteps in the streets," she confessed. "I am afraid!"
"Needlessly," he assured her. "I know for a fact that Shields is off the scent."
"But he is not a fool," she answered hastily.
Wingate's smile was full of confidence.
"Dear," he said, "I do not believe that you have anything to fear. There have been no loose ends left. Behind your front door is safety."
"The man Shields—I only saw him for a few minutes, but he impressed me," she sighed.
"Shields is, without doubt, a capable person," Wingate admitted, "but he could only succeed in this case by blind guessing. Stanley Rees was brought into this house through the mews, without observation from any living person. Phipps, when he received that supposed message from you, was only too anxious to come the same way. They left their respective abodes for here in a secrecy which they themselves encouraged, for Rees imagined that your husband had urgent need of him, and Phipps was ass enough to believe that your summons meant what he wished it to mean. There has been no leakage of information anywhere.—Honestly, Josephine, I think that you may banish your fears."