"Where are we to go?"
"I have thought of that. There is a little quiet town in Belgium where no English people ever come at all. We will go there, then we will take another name; we will be buried to the outer world, and will live, for the rest of our lives, for ourselves alone. Do you agree?"
"I will do, Harry, whatever you think best."
"It will be for a time only. When all is ready, you will have to step to the front—the will in your hand to be proved—to receive what is due to you as the widow of Lord Harry Norland. You will go back to Belgium, after awhile, so as to disarm suspicion, to become once more the wife of William Linville."
Iris sighed heavily, Then she caught her husband's eyes gathering with doubt, and she smiled again.
"In everything, Harry," she said, "I am your servant. When shall we start?"
"Immediately. I have only to write a letter to the doctor. Where is your bag? Is this all? Let me go first to see that no one is about. Have you got the will? Oh! it is here—yes—in the bag. I will bring along the bag."
He ran downstairs, and came up quickly.
"The nurse has returned," he said. "She is in the spare room."
"What nurse?"