Yet no! It was true. Ralph Ansell was dead. He had carried his secret with him to the grave, and she was free—free! She was really Lady Bracondale, the mother of Bracondale’s child!
She had been at the point of confessing. But no. Bracondale must know nothing.
“You killed this man, Jean?” her husband was saying in a low, intense voice. “Why?”
“I—I—he attacked me, and I——”
She did not conclude her sentence.
“Why, your neck is all black and blue!” Bracondale said, noticing it for the first time.
“He tried to strangle me, then he intended to shoot me,” she said hysterically. “We struggled—and—and it—it went off!”
“But who is he?”
“How can I tell?” she asked frantically. “I came in here unexpectedly, and saw him with my pearls in his hand. I—I demanded them back, but he refused. I threatened to shout and alarm the servants, but he sprang upon me and tried to strangle me!”