"Really! Who told you that?"

"I have ascertained it in the course of my inquiry."

Dorise paused, and then looking the man of mystery straight in the face, asked:

"What do you really know about me?"

"Well," he laughed lightly. "A good deal. Now tell me when could you be free to get away from your mother for a whole day?"

"Why?"

"I want to know. Just tell me the date. When are you returning to London?"

"On Sat.u.r.day week. I could get away--say--on Tuesday week."

"Very good. You would have to leave London by an early train in the morning--if I fail to send a car for you, which I hope to do. And be back again late at night."

"Why?"

"Why," he echoed. "Because I have a reason."

"I believe you will take me to meet Hugh--eh? Ah! How good you are!"

cried the girl in deep emotion. "I shall never be able to thank you sufficiently for all you are doing. I--I have been longing all these weeks to see him again--to hear his explanation why he went to the woman's house at that hour--why----"

"He will tell you everything, no doubt," said her mysterious visitor.

"He will tell you everything except one fact."

"And what is that?" she asked breathlessly.

"One fact he will not tell you. But you will know it later. Hugh Henfrey is a fine manly fellow, Miss Rans...o...b.. That is why I have done my level best in his interest."

"But why should you?" she asked. "You are, after all, a stranger."

"True. But you will know the truth some day. Meanwhile, leave matters as they are. Do not prejudge him, even if the police are convinced of his guilt. Could you be at King's Cross station at ten o'clock on the morning of Tuesday week? If so, I will meet you there."

"Yes," she replied. "But where are we going?"

"At present I have no idea. When one is escaping from the police one's movements have to be ruled by circ.u.mstances from hour to hour. I will do my best on that day to arrange a meeting between you," he added.

She thanked him very sincerely. He was still a mystery, but his face and his whole bearing attracted her. He was her friend. She recollected his words amid that gay revelry at Nice--words of encouragement and sympathy. And he had travelled there, far north into Perthshire, in order to carry the letter which she had thrust into her pocket, yet still holding it in her clenched hand.

"I do wish you would tell me the motive of your extreme kindness towards us both," Dorise urged. "I can't make it out at all. I am bewildered."

"Well--so am I, Miss Rans...o...b.." replied the tall, elegant man who spoke with such refinement, and was so shrewd and alert. "There are certain facts--facts of which I have no knowledge. The affair at the Villa Amette is still, to me, a most profound mystery."

"Why did Hugh go there at all? That is what I fail to understand," she declared.

"Don't wonder any longer. He had, I know, an urgent and distinct motive to call that night."

"But the woman! I hear she is a notorious adventuress."

"And the adventuress, Miss Rans...o...b.. often has, deep in her soul, the heart of a pure woman," he said. "One must never judge by appearance or gossip. What people may think is the curse of many of our lives. I hope you do not misjudge Mr. Henfrey."

"I do not. But I am anxious to hear his explanation."

"You shall--and before long, too," he replied. "But I want you, if you will, to answer a question. I do not put it from mere idle curiosity, but it very closely concerns you both. Have you ever heard him speak of a girl named Louise Lambert?"

"Louise Lambert? Why, yes! He introduced her to me once. She is, I understand, the adopted daughter of a man named Benton, an intimate friend of old Mr. Henfrey."

"Has he ever told you anything concerning her?"

"Nothing much. Why?"

"He has never told you the conditions of his father's will?"

"Never--except that he has been left very poorly off, though his father died in affluent circ.u.mstances. What are the conditions?"

The mysterious stranger paused for a moment.

"Have you, of late, formed an acquaintance of a certain Mrs. Bond, a widow?"

"I met her recently in South Kensington, at the house of a friend of my mother, Mrs. Binyon. Why?"

"How many times have you met her?"

"Two--or I think three. She came to tea with us the day before we came up here."

"H'm! Your mother seems rather p.r.o.ne to make easy acquaintanceships--eh?

The Hardcastles were distinctly undesirable, were they not?--and the Jameses also?"

"Why, what do you know about them?" asked the girl, much surprised, as they were two families who had been discovered to be not what they represented.

"Well," he laughed. "I happen to be aware of your mother's charm--that's all."

"You seem to know quite a bit about us," she remarked. "How is it?"

"Because I have made it my business to know, Miss Rans...o...b.." he replied.

"Further, I would urge upon you to have nothing to do with Mrs. Bond."

"Why not? We found her most pleasant. She is the widow of a wealthy man who died abroad about two years ago, and she lives somewhere down in Surrey."

"I know all about that," he answered in a curious tone. "But I repeat my warning that Mrs. Bond is by no means a desirable acquaintance. I tell you so for your own benefit."

Inwardly he was angry that the woman should have so cleverly made the acquaintance of the girl. It showed him plainly that Benton and she were working on a set and desperate plan, while the girl before him was entirely ignorant of the plot.

"Now, Miss Rans...o...b.." he added, "I want you to please make me a promise--namely, that you will say nothing to a single soul of what I have said this evening--not even to your friend, Mr. Henfrey. I have very strong reasons for this. Remember, I am acting in the interests of you both, and secrecy is the essence of success."

"I understand. But you really mystify me. I know you are my friend," she said, "but why are you doing all this for our benefit?"