“Of course. That was my intention.”
“But could it not have been done without the sacrifice of that man’s life?” she queried. “Remember! The crime of murder was committed.”
“You are only dreaming!” he replied, in a hard voice. “A mystery was necessary for our success.”
“And it is a mystery which has entirely baffled the police in every particular.”
“As I intended it should. I laid my plans with care, so that there should be no hitch or point by which Scotland Yard could obtain a clue.”
“But our future life?” she murmured. “When may I return again to you? At present I am compelled to feign mourning, and present a perfect picture of interesting widowhood; but—but I hate this playing at death.”
“Have patience, dear,” he urged in a sympathetic tone. “For the moment we must remain entirely apart, holding no communication with each other save in secret, on the first and fifteenth day of every month as we arranged. As soon as I find myself in a position of safety we will disappear together, and you will leave the world wondering at the second mystery following upon the first.”
“In how long a time do you anticipate?” she asked, looking earnestly into his eyes.
“A few months at most,” was his answer. “If it were possible you should return to me at once; but you know how strange and romantic is my life, compelled to disguise my personality, and for ever moving from place to place, like the Wandering Jew. To return to me at present is quite impossible. Besides—you are in the hands of the executors; and before long must be in evidence in order to receive my money.”
“Money is useless to me without happiness,” she declared, in a voice of complaint. “My position at present is one of constant dread.”