"I promise, dearest, that I will believe nothing against you," I said fervently, kissing her cold, hard lips. "But cannot you, in return, assist me in solving the mystery of Harrington Gardens. Who was the girl found there? Surely you know?"
"No, I don't. I swear I don't," was her quick reply, though her face was blanched to the lips.
"But Mrs. Petre gave me to understand that you knew her," I said.
"Yes—that woman!" she cried in anger. "She has lied to you, as to the others. Have I not told you that she is my most deadly enemy?"
"Then she may go to the police—who knows! How can we close her mouth?"
My love drew a long breath and shook her head. The light had faded, and only the fitful flames of the fire illuminated the sombre room. In the dark shadows she presented a pale, pathetic little figure, her face white as death, her thin, delicate hands clasped before her in dismay and despair.
"Have you any idea where Digby is at this moment?" I asked her slowly, wondering whether if he were an intimate friend he had let her know his hiding-place.
"No. I have not the slightest idea," was her faint reply.
"Ah! If only I could discover him I would wring the truth from him," I exclaimed between my teeth.
"And if you did so, I myself would be imperilled," she remarked. "No, Teddy, you must not do that if—if you love me and would protect me."