“I ask you, Ella, a simple question—is what Lucie Miller has said true? Were you ever engaged to that man?” he asked very seriously.
“There was not an actual engagement,” was her answer, and I saw that she feared to tell him the truth.
What right had the fellow to question her? I had difficulty in restraining myself from rushing forward and boldly exposing him as the thief and adventurer he was.
“Lucie, in answer to my question, told me that you had lost sight of each other for several years, and that you believed him dead.”
“That is so.”
“And that he has been travelling on the Continent the whole time?”
“I believe he has,” was her reply, whereupon he remained in silence for some moments, as though reflecting deeply. Was it possible that, after all, he had recognised me as the man who he had intended should be his cat’s-paw in the Blenkap affair?
I felt certain that he was endeavouring to recall my face.
“Your father knows nothing of my friendship with Miller?” he asked suddenly, with some apprehension.
“I have told him nothing, as you forbade me.”