“No doubt he was. But he has changed his opinions. He is in love, and is engaged to be married to a very charming girl. Thus far, his beliefs and his good fortune have pulled against each other.”
“Bertie engaged to be married! Good gracious! Who is she? And how can he support a wife? He is poor, and in debt, and he won’t even let me help him.”
“I have stated the facts, nevertheless. The lady is a daughter of Sir William Browne, and they are now yachting with a large party in the Mediterranean.”
“Are her people against the match? Is that why this Scotland Yard man—?”
“No. Mensmore is on board Sir William’s yacht. But there is another lady, missing from her home for nearly three months, who is believed to be dead—murdered, the police say—and with whom your brother was in some indefinable way associated.”
“Do they dare to say that Bertie killed her?” Mrs. Hillmer’s color rose and her eyes flashed fire again.
“They say nothing. They are simply doing their duty in trying to discover the truth. And you may take it from me, as an undoubted fact, that the last place this lady visited before her death was one of the flats in these mansions. All present indications point to your brother’s residence as being that place. Now, I pray you, be calm, and try to help me, for I have acted in this matter as your friend and as your brother’s friend. At this very moment I am concealing his identity and his whereabouts from the police, who are searching for him under the assumed name of Corbett. If he is guilty of this crime, then I must hand him over to justice, for the murdered woman was a dear and good friend of mine. If he is innocent, as, indeed, I believe him to be, I will strive to help him and save his good name from the tarnish of being arrested on such an odious charge.”
During this recital Mrs. Hillmer became deathly pale. Her agitation was the greater inasmuch as she forcibly controlled herself. But she could not remain seated. She sprang to the window and looked out, in the vain effort to seek inspiration from the gathering gloom of the street. Then she turned, and spoke very slowly:
“I think I understand. I must have faith in you, Mr. Bruce. Who—was—the lady?”