"By Jove, so she was really married before!" cried Jimmie. "But I beg your pardon, Mr. Chalfont, for interrupting you."
"This man, Gilbert Morris, was comparatively well-to-do," resumed the vicar. "He owned a couple of ships, and when at home he lived in Dunwold; but he was away the greater part of his time, sailing one or the other of his vessels to foreign ports. Six months after the marriage he started on such a voyage, leaving his youthful bride with an old housekeeper, and just three weeks later Diane disappeared. Every effort was made to trace her, but in vain, and it was believed that she had gone to London. Before the end of the winter our village squire returned from abroad, and declared that he had recognized Diane in Paris, and that she was a popular dancer under the name of Merode. About the same time it was reported in the papers that the vessel on which Gilbert Morris had set sail, the Nautilus, had been lost in a storm, with all hands on board. There was every reason to credit the report—"
"But it was not true," exclaimed Jimmie. "I can read as much in your eyes, Mr. Chalfont. What became of Gilbert Morris?"
CHAPTER XXX.
RUN TO EARTH.
The vicar hesitated for a moment, and then looked his companion straight in the face.
"That unhappy man, Gilbert Morris, was spared by the sea," he answered in a low voice. "The ship was lost, as reported, but he and two of the crew were picked up by a sailing vessel and carried to South America. Months elapsed before they were heard of, and Diane had been gone for a year when Gilbert Morris returned to Dunwold. The news was a terrible shock to him, for he had loved his wife with all the depth of a fierce and fiery nature. His affection seemed to turn to rage, and it was thought best to keep him in ignorance of the fact that Diane had been seen in Paris. Brain fever prostrated him, and when he recovered physically from that his mind was affected—in other words, he was a homicidal lunatic, with a fixed determination to find and kill his wife."
"By heavens!" exclaimed Jimmie. "The scent is getting warm! What was done with the man?"
"He was sent to a private madhouse in Surrey."