“The time passes here awfully slowly,” she declared in a low voice. “I thought you were never coming. I shall have to get a few books to read.”
“I was delayed,” I said, taking off my cloth cap and flinging it upon the sofa. “I found Eric Domville awaiting me. He came up from Ryhall to-day and told me some strange news.”
“Strange news!” she gasped, turning deathly pale and clutching at the back of a chair in order to steady herself. “What—what news?”
The truth was instantly plain. Her fear was that the mystery of the unknown had been discovered.
I had quite inadvertently struck terror into her heart, for upon her countenance was that same haunted look as on that night when she had left Ryhall in secret.
“What Eric has told me concerns Ellice Winsloe,” I said, much surprised, and yet allowing her agitation to pass unnoticed.
“Ellice Winsloe. Is he—has he come to London?” she gasped, staring at me and starting.
“Yes, and more. He knows that you slept the night before last at Harker’s. He called to see you an hour after we had left yesterday.”
“He knows!” she cried in a low, terrified voice.
“Ellice knows that I was there! Then he has followed me—he—he means to carry out his threat!”