She raised her eyes to his, and he saw for the first time how much
thinner she was.

"Douglas," she said, "there is something I must ask you first of all
before I stay with you for a moment. Must I put it into words?"

"I do not think you need, Cicely," he answered. "I went to your
father's room that night beyond a doubt, but I never raised my hand
against him. I should have very hard work to prove it, I fancy, but I
am wholly innocent of his death--innocent, that is to say, so far as any
direct action of mine was concerned."

She drew a long deep breath of relief. Then she looked up to him with a
beautiful smile.

"Douglas," she said, "I was sure of it, yet it is a great weight from my
heart to hear you say so. Now, can you take me somewhere where we can
talk? I am afraid of the streets. I will tell you why afterwards."

He called a hansom and handed her in. After a moment's hesitation he
gave the address of the restaurant where he had first met Rice.

"It is only a shabby little place," he explained to her, apologetically,
"but we can talk there freely."

"Anywhere," she answered; "how strange it seems to be here--in London
with you."

There was a sense of unreality about it to him, but he only laughed.