“What other reason could there be?”
Slade smiled in a way that awoke Helen’s dislike. “Well, it’s conceivable that you were under the impression that the man in the doorway was Mr. Shei. That would not only have explained your excitement, but also give ample reason for uttering his name.”
Helen opened her eyes wide. “But—but I don’t even remember seeing the man,” she protested artlessly, “so why should I suppose him to be Mr. Shei?”
“The fact remains that you spoke Mr. Shei’s name just before you fainted away. Let’s get at the subject from a different angle, Miss Hardwick. Do you know who Mr. Shei is?”
Helen, having a curious feeling that her life was trembling in the balance, shook her head.
“You don’t know his other name—the name by which he is known to the world at large?”
Again Helen made a negative gesture, and in the same instant she became aware that Slade’s frosty gaze was following the movements of her right hand. Before she realized what was happening, he had left his chair and stepped up behind her, and now he was leaning over her shoulder and looking down at the table.
“So, you lied,” he muttered in tones that sent a shiver through her body, at the same time pointing to the table.
Helen looked down. She gave a violent start. While she had been fencing verbally with Slade, her hand had betrayed her. In her preoccupation she had not realized that another couplet of initials had appeared in the dust. With a sensation of defeat and despair she stared down at the telltale characters—the first letters in Mr. Shei’s other name.