“Remember,” I pointed out, “that I do not unite with you against the Earl.”
“No, of course not,” she cried in a low intense voice. “But by your silence you can give me a chance to atone for all the past—you—you can save me!”
Chapter Fifteen.
The Track of the Truth.
When the Countess had gone, leaving behind her a sweet breath of “Ideale,” that newest invention of the Parisian perfumer, I sat with my elbows idly upon the table, pondering over her strange words and becoming more than ever puzzled.
Beauty may be only skin-deep, yet it makes a very deep impression. The brilliant woman who was my dear friend’s wife had never captivated me. Nevertheless I had seen in her a genuine desire for reform and had therefore given her my promise. Still the mystery of it all seemed to increase, instead of diminish.
The Earl of Stanchester had, of course, seen the dead man on the morning after the discovery, but had not recognised him. At least it was quite clear that he had no suspicion whatever of who the young man really might be.
From a drawer I took that piece of paper with those puzzling numerals upon it which I had managed to obtain in secret. The cipher was, however, utterly unreadable. Staring at the paper I sat wondering what was written there. If only I could learn the meaning of those figures, then I knew that the truth would quickly become revealed.