"Whom?" he asked sharply. "The woman who lost that green horn comb at the flat?"
I held my breath.
"No, Edwards," I answered, "That question is unfair. As a gentleman, I cannot mention a lady's name. If she chooses to do so that's another matter. But if she does—as from motives of jealousy she easily may do—please do not take any action without first consulting me. Ere long I shall have a strange, almost incredible, story to put before you."
"Why not now?" he asked, instantly interested.
"Because I have not yet substantiated all my facts," was my reply.
"Cannot I assist you? Why keep me in the dark?" he protested.
"I'm afraid you can render me no other assistance except to hesitate to accept the allegations of that woman Petre," I replied.
"Well, we shall wait until she approaches us again," he said.
"This I feel certain she will do," I exclaimed. "But if you see her, make no mention whatever of me—you understand? She believes me to be dead, and therefore not likely to disprove her allegations."
"Dead!" he echoed. "Really, Mr. Royle, all this sounds most interesting."