I adored her with a passionate madness that was beyond control. She was, as she had ever been, my ideal—my all in all. And yet the mystery surrounding her was still impenetrable; an enigma that grew more complicated, more impossible of solution.
CHAPTER XXV.
FORMS A BEWILDERING ENIGMA.
“Found Drowned” was the verdict of the twelve respectable villagers who formed the Coroner’s jury to inquire into the tragic death of young Mrs. Courtenay. It was the only conclusion that could be arrived at in the circumstances, there being no marks of violence, and no evidence to show how the unfortunate lady got into the river.
Ambler Jevons, who had seen a brief account of the affair in the papers, arrived hurriedly in time to attend the inquest; therefore it was not until the inquiry was over that we were enabled to chat. His appearance had changed during the weeks of his absence: his face seemed thinner and wore a worried, anxious expression.
“Well, Ralph, old fellow, this turns out to be a curious business, doesn’t it?” he exclaimed, when, after leaving the public room of the Golden Ball, wherein the inquiry had been held, we had strolled on through the long straggling village of homely cottages with thatched roofs, and out upon the white, level highroad.
“Yes,” I admitted. “It’s more than curious. Frankly, I have a distinct suspicion that Mary was murdered.”
“That’s exactly my own opinion,” he exclaimed quickly. “There’s been foul play somewhere. Of that I’m certain.”