"Go on," she begged.

"He laid a trap for us, and we fell into it like the veriest simpletons.
He let Beatrice think that he had gone to Chicago. Of course, he did
nothing of the sort. He turned her loose to come to me, and he had us
watched. He knew that we spent last evening together as old friends. She
was here in my rooms this morning when he arrived."

"Oh, Philip, Philip!" she murmured. "Well, what does he suspect?"

"The truth! He accused me to my face of being Philip Romilly. Beatrice
did her best but, you see, the position was a little absurd. She denied
strenuously that she had ever seen me before, that I was anything but a
stranger to her. In the face of last evening, and his finding her here
this morning, it didn't sound convincing."

"What is Dane going to do?"

"Heaven knows! It isn't his affair, really. If there were any charge
against me--well, you see, there'd have to be an extradition order. I
should think he will probably lay the facts before Scotland Yard and let
them do what they choose."

She made him sit down and drew a low chair herself to his side. She held
his hand in hers.

"Philip," she said soothingly, "they can't possibly prove anything."

"They can prove," he pointed out, "that I was in Detton Magna that