"'Allegations which concern me most seriously, for I quite agree with you that, in the eyes of anyone acquainted with the case, they point unmistakably to Denia Melray. But tell me this: Should I be very wide of the mark in assuming that the story has already been read both by Mr. Winslade and Mr. Robert Melray?'
"'It has been read by both of them.'
"'So much I surmised. And now, will you be good enough to enlighten me as to anything you may happen to know about the authorship of this very remarkable composition? I am also curious to learn by what chance it fell into your hands.'
"Frankness being apparently the order of the day, I at once proceeded to recount to her everything as it had happened, from my purchase of The Family Cornucopia onward through all the details of your interview with Mr. Timmins, ending with a mention of the letter from the railway company, in which it was stated that one out of the four people killed in the accident had never been identified. She seemed to drink in every word with an almost breathless avidity. I fancied that her face paled perceptibly when I told her how, on Mr. Timmins coming to his senses, the first thing he saw was the dead body of his unknown travelling companion stretched out beside him. Neither of us broke the silence for a little while after I had come to an end. Mrs. Melray was the first to speak.
"'Did'--here her hand went up to her throat for a moment--'did Mr. Timmins describe to Mr. Winslade--what I mean is, did he give him any description of the stranger who was killed?'
"'The notice Mr. Timmins took of his fellow-traveller was of the most casual kind. All he could call to mind was that he was young and dark-complexioned, with a black moustache.'
"'Yes--yes--young and dark-complexioned, with a black moustache,' she repeated like an echo. 'It must have been he--it could have been no other than he! Poor Evan! What an end--what a terrible end!"
"She turned and buried her face in the sofa-cushions, and presently her slight frame was shaken by those dry-eyed, almost silent sobs which bear witness to a grief that, for the time being, is beyond the consolation of tears.
"I knew not what to do--of no way in which I could comfort her. The conditions of the case were so exceptional that I felt myself utterly helpless. I could only sit and look dumbly on.
"'Poor Evan!' she had said. I did not forget that Evan Wildash was the name of her one-time lover, who was said to have gone to the Cape years before, and to have died there.