do you say, Mr. Laverick?"

He looked at her, curiously moved. Now at last he began to believe
that it was true what they said of her, that she was indeed a
marvelous woman. She had a fame which would have contented nine
hundred and ninety-nine women out of a thousand. She had beauty,
and, more wonderful still, the grace, the fascination which are
irresistible. She had but to lift a finger and there were few
who would not kneel to do her bidding. And yet, behind it all there
were other things in her life. Had she sought them, or had they
come to her?

"You are one of those wise people, Mr. Laverick," she said, "who
realize the danger of words. You believe in silence. Well, silence
is often good. You do not choose to admit anything."

"What is there for me to admit? Do you want to know whether I am
the man who left those offices, who disappeared into the passage,
who reappeared again - "

"With a pocket-book containing twenty thousand pounds," she murmured
across the flowers.

"At least tell me this?" he demanded. "Was the money yours?"

"I am not like you," she replied. "I have talked a great deal and
I have reached the limit of the things which I may tell you."

"But where are we?" he asked. "Are you seriously accusing me of
having robbed this murdered man?"