She did not answer, but even in that dim lamplight I detected the tell-tale flush mounting to her cheeks.
Then, in order, apparently, to cover her confusion, she added—
“I must really go. I shall be late for dinner, and my mother hates to wait for me. Good-bye.”
Our hands clasped, our eyes met, and I saw in hers a look of deep mystery, as though she held me in suspicion. Her manner and her identification of that object extracted from the pocket of the dead man were very puzzling.
“Good-bye,” I said. “I hope soon to have the pleasure of meeting you again. I have enjoyed this walk of ours immensely.”
“When we meet—if ever we do,” she answered with a mischievous smile, “remember that I have promised to wear the mask. Good-bye.” And she twisted her skirts gracefully, entered the cab, and a moment later was driven off, leaving me alone on the kerb.
I hesitated whether to return home by ’bus or Underground Railway, but, deciding on the latter, continued along the High Street to the station, and journeyed to the Temple by that sulphurous region of dirt and darkness known as the “Inner Circle.”
The reader may readily imagine how filled with conflicting thoughts was my mind on that homeward journey. Although I adored Mabel Anson with a love beyond all bounds, and would on that evening have declared my passion for her had I dared, yet I could not disguise from myself that sight of the pencil-case I had taken from the dead unknown had wrought an instant and extraordinary change in her.
She had identified it. Of that fact there was no doubt. Her lame explanation that it bore a resemblance to the one she had given to her friend was too palpably an afterthought. I was vexed that she should have thus attempted a deception. It was certainly true that one gold pencil-case is very like another, and that a Birmingham maker may turn out a thousand of similar pattern, yet the intricate cypher engraved on the one in question was sufficient by which to identify it. It was these very initials which had caused her to deny that it was really the one she had purchased and presented; yet I felt convinced that what she had told me was untrue, and that those very initials had been placed upon it by her order.
Again, had she not spoken of its owner in the past tense? This, in itself, was a very suspicious circumstance, and led me to the belief that she was aware of his death. If he were dead, then certainly he would no longer be her friend.