“I must go at once to town. There’s work for me there—delicate work. What you’ve told me presents a new phase of the affair,” he said in a strange, anxious tone.
“Does it strengthen your clue?” I asked.
“In a certain degree—yes. It makes clear one point which was hitherto a mystery.”
“And also makes plain that poor Mrs. Courtenay met with foul play?” I suggested.
“Ah! For the moment, this latest development of the affair is quite beyond the question. We must hark back to that night at Richmond Road. I must go at once to London,” he added, glancing at his watch. “Will you come with me?”
“Most willingly. Perhaps I can help you.”
“Perhaps; we will see.”
So we turned and retraced our steps to the house of mourning, where, having pleaded urgent consultations with patients, I took leave of Ethelwynn. We were alone, and I bent and kissed her lips in order to show her that my love and confidence had not one whit abated. Her countenance brightened, and with sudden joy she flung her arms around my neck and returned my caress, pleading—“Ralph! You will forgive—you will forgive me, won’t you?”
“I love you, dearest!” was all that I could reply; and it was the honest truth, direct from a heart overburdened by mystery and suspicion.
Then with a last kiss I turned and left her, driving with Ambler Jevons to catch the London train.