CHAPTER XXVIII.
FURTHER ADMISSIONS.
"The secret of Digby Kemsley is still a secret, and will ever remain a secret."
I recollected Mrs. Petre uttering those words to me as that dark-faced villain Ali had forced my inert head down upon the table.
Well, that same night when I had begged of Edwards my love's life, I sat in his room at Scotland Yard and there made a formal declaration of what had happened to me on that well-remembered night outside Colchester. I formally demanded the arrest of the woman, of Ali, and of the young man-servant, all of whom had conspired to take my life.
The clerk calmly took down my statement, which Edwards read over to me, and I duly signed it.
Then, gripping his hand, I went forth into Parliament Street, and took a taxi to Cromwell Road.
I had not seen Phrida for several days, and she was delighted at my visit.
She presented a pale, frail, little figure in her simple gown of pale pink ninon, cut slightly open at the neck and girdled narrow with turquoise blue. Her skirt was narrow, as was the mode, and her long white arms were bare to the shoulders.
She had been curled up before the fire reading when I entered, but she jumped up with an expression of welcome upon her lips.