"Why compelled?" I demanded.
"I—I cannot tell you," she whispered hoarsely. "I dare not."
"Dare not? Is your secret so terrible, then?"
"Yes. It is all a mystery. I do not know the truth myself," she replied. "I only know that I—that I love you, and that now, because that woman has spoken, I have lost you and am left to face the world—the police—alone!"
"Have I not told you, dearest, that I will do my best to protect and defend you if you will only reveal the truth to me," I said.
"But I can't."
"You still wish to shield this blackguard who has held you in secret in his hands?" I cried in anger.
"No, I don't," she cried in despair. "I tell you, Teddy, now—even if this is the last time we ever meet—that I love you and you alone. I have fallen the victim of a clever and dastardly plot, believe me, or believe me not. What I tell you is the truth."
"I do believe you," I replied fervently. "But if you love me, Phrida, as you declare, you will surely reveal to me the perfidy of this man I have trusted!"
"I—I can't now," she said in a voice of excuse. "It is impossible. But you may know some day."