"Frederick would not say. He had promised not to tell anyone who he was; indeed, he had promised not to hold any communication with anyone. The latter promise he had broken by meeting me. We were—we are engaged. I would not take back my freedom. He will write to me presently, and then I shall join him wherever he is."
"That was before the great robbery of the bank," said Quarles.
"Days before," she answered.
"And you do not know where he is now?"
"No."
I had pitied her, now I could not help admiring her. Of course, the story was a fabrication. She had met Quarles on his own ground, and beaten him. She had seen through his persuasive manner, and in a few words had entirely dissociated her lover from the robbery, and shown the futility of attempting to find him. The professor did not let her see his disappointment.
"Most useful information, Miss Yerbury," he said. "I am sure you will not regret having told me the truth."
He was silent for a little while, as we went back to the station, and then he said suddenly:
"A queer story, Wigan."
"Clever!" I answered.