"But the main part of the plot?" he persisted, "the bandages?"

"Doctor Gant never allowed me to touch them. That is what I found so
inexplicable,--what first set me wondering."

"The whole scheme was very cleverly thought out," Crawshay pronounced, "but
if you will forgive my repeating a previous speculation, Miss Beverley, the
greatest mystery about it all, to me, is how you, Miss Katharine Beverley,
whose name and reputation in New York stands so high, were induced to leave
your work, your social engagements and your home, at a time like this, when
your country really has claims upon you, to act as ordinary sick nurse to a
New York clerk of humble means who turns out to have been nothing but the
tool of Jocelyn Thew."

"I am still unable to explain that," she told him.

He realised the state of tension in which she was and suddenly abandoned
the whole subject. He spoke of the theatres, asked of her friends in town,
discussed the news of the day, and made no further allusion of any sort to
the mystery which surrounded them. It was not until after they had been
served with their coffee in the lounge that he reverted to more serious
matters.

"Miss Beverley," he said, "for your own sake I am exceedingly unwilling to
leave you like this. I may seem to you to be an inquisitor, but believe me
I am a friendly one. I cannot see that you have anything to lose in being
frank with me. I wish to help you. I wish to relieve the anxiety from which
I know that you are suffering. Give me your confidence."