“We shall obtain one against somebody, but who it may be of course depends entirely upon the result of our subsequent investigations. People don’t keep bodies locked up in their houses without some very strong motive.”
It now struck me as exceedingly strange why Eva should have been so anxious to prevent me revisiting Riverdene. She had hinted that the Blains were my enemies, yet was it not more likely that my presence reminded her too vividly of her sin, and she also feared the vengeance of Mary Blain? There was undoubtedly some deep motive underlying this effort to prevent me visiting the Blains, but as I reflected upon it I failed to decide what it might be. She had spoken of it as though it were for my benefit, and as if she had my welfare at heart, yet I could not fail to detect how hollow was the sham, for the Blains were my friends of long standing, and since my visit at Mary’s request my welcome had always been a most cordial one.
Mary had certainly no cause for jealousy, for she and I had on several occasions, when alone on the river, spoken of the past. She had, indeed, ridiculed my boyish love for her, and observed that we were both older and more discreet nowadays. I had long been assured by her words and her attitude that her affection for me—if she had really ever entertained any—had entirely passed away.
No, I could not understand Eva’s present attitude. It was entirely an enigma. She seemed filled with some nameless terror, the reason of which our discoveries seemed to prove up to the hilt.
Day followed day, each to me full of anxiety and bewilderment. On parting from Boyd he had told me to remain in patience until he communicated with me. I was not to return to Riverdene, neither was I to mention a single word to Dick regarding recent occurrences.
I wandered from end to end of London day after day, reporting the events which daily crop up in the Metropolis. It seemed to me as if those days would never end. I saw nothing but the face of Eva. The world which had seemed to me so beautiful had changed; Heaven was cruel. It created loveliness only to pollute and deform it afterwards. Out of my dreams I was brought face to face with facts that sickened me. The old landmarks of my faith were gone. Whatever happy hopefulness of nature I possessed was crushed. I was bewildered and sick at heart. Yet through it all I could not thrust away from me Eva’s wondrous beauty. Her form, her gaze, her smile, her sigh—I could think of nothing else. Yet the mockery of it all stung me to despair, and despair is man’s most frequent visitor.
A week thus passed. I saw her in the air, in the clouds, everywhere; her voice rang in my ears; she was so lovely—and yet she was so vile—a poisoner!
One afternoon I had returned to Gray’s Inn unusually early, about three o’clock, put on my old lounge-coat, a river “blazer,” and sat down to write up an interview for publication next day, when I heard a ring at the door, voices outside the room, and a few moments later Mrs Joad entered, saying—“’Ere’s a lady wants to see you, sir.”
“A lady?” I exclaimed, turning quickly in my chair. “Ask her in.”
I rose, brushing down my hair with my hand, and next moment found myself face to face with Eva.