"Yes, I remember," Gurn went on slowly: "it was in our little room in the rue Lévert, and I was on my knees beside you when the door opened quietly, and there stood Lord Beltham, mad with rage and jealousy!"
"I don't know what happened then," Lady Beltham whispered in a hopeless undertone, drooping her head again.
"I do," muttered Gurn. "His eyes sought you, and a pistol was pointed at your heart! He would have fired, but I sprang and struck him down! And then I strangled him!"
Lady Beltham's eyes were fixed on the man's hands, that she still held between her own.
"And I saw the muscles in these hands swell up beneath the skin as they tightened on his throat!"
"I killed him!" groaned the man.
But Lady Beltham, swept by a surge of passion, sprang up and sought his lips.
"Oh, Gurn!" she sobbed—"my darling!"
"Listen," said Gurn harshly, after a pause of anxious silence. "I had to see you to-night, for who knows if to-morrow——" Lady Beltham shrank at the words, but Gurn went on unheeding. "The police are after me. Of course I have made myself almost unrecognisable, but twice just lately I have been very nearly caught."