"Yes. But next day he left Huacho, expressing a determination to go to Lima and make a statement to the Consul there. But he never arrived at the capital, and he has never been seen since."

"Then a grave suspicion rests upon him?" I remarked, reflecting upon my startling adventure of the previous night.

"Certainly. But the curious thing is that no attempt seems to have been made by the police authorities in Lima to trace the man. They allowed him to disappear, and took no notice of the affair, even when the British Consul reported it. I fancy police methods must be very lax ones there,"

he added.

"But what could have been the method of the a.s.sa.s.sin?" I asked.

"Why, simply to allow the snake to strike at the sleeping man, I presume," said the detective. "Yet, one would have thought that after the snake had bitten him he would have cried out for help. But he did not."

Had the victim, I wondered, swallowed that same tasteless drug that I had swallowed, and been paralysed, as I had been?

"And the motive of the crime?" I asked.

Edwards shrugged his shoulders, and raised his brows.

"Robbery, I should say," was his reply. "But, strangely enough, there is no suggestion of theft in this report; neither does there seem to be any woman in the case."

"You, of course, suspect that my friend Digby and the man Cane, are one and the same person!" I said. "But is it feasible that if Cane were really responsible for the death of the real Sir Digby, would he have the bold audacity to return to London and actually pose as his victim?"

"Yes, Mr. Royle," replied the detective, "I think it most feasible. Great criminals have the most remarkable audacity. Some really astounding cases of most impudent impersonation have come under my own observation during my career in this office."

"Then you adhere to the theory which you formed at first?"

"Most decidedly," he replied; "and while it seems that you have a surprise to spring upon me very shortly, so have I one to spring upon you--one which I fear, Mr. Royle," he added very slowly, looking me gravely in the face--"I fear may come as a great shock to you."

I sat staring at him, unable to utter a syllable.

He was alluding to Phrida, and to the d.a.m.ning evidence against her.

What could he know? Ah! who had betrayed my love?

CHAPTER XXIII.

LOVE'S CONFESSION.

I dined alone at the Club, and afterwards sat over my coffee in one of the smaller white-panelled rooms, gazing up at the Adams ceiling, and my mind full of the gravest thoughts.

What had Edwards meant when he promised me an unpleasant surprise? Had the woman Petre already made a statement incriminating my well-beloved?

If so, I would at once demand the arrest of her and her accomplices for attempted murder. It had suggested itself to me to make a complete revelation to Edwards of the whole of my exciting adventure at Colchester, but on mature consideration I saw that such a course might thwart my endeavours to come face to face with Digby.

Therefore I had held my tongue.

But were Edwards' suspicions that the a.s.sa.s.sin Cane and the man I knew as Sir Digby Kemsley were one and the same, correct, or were they not?

The method by which the unfortunate Englishman in Peru had been foully done to death was similar to the means employed against myself at Colchester on the previous night. Again, the fact that the victim did not shout and call for aid was, no doubt, due to the administration of that drug which produced complete paralysis of the muscles, and yet left the senses perfectly normal.

Was that Indian whom they called Ali really a Peruvian native--the accomplice of Cane? I now felt confident that this was so.

But in what manner could the impostor have obtained power over Phrida?

Why did she not take courage and reveal to me the truth?

Presently, I took a taxi down to Cromwell Road and found my well-beloved, with thin, pale, drawn face, endeavouring to do some fancy needlework by the drawing-room fire. Her mother had retired with a bad headache, she said, and she was alone.

"I expected you yesterday, Teddy," she said, taking my hand. "I waited all day, but you never came."

"I had to go into the country," I replied somewhat lamely.

Then after a brief conversation upon trivialities, during which time I sat regarding her closely, and noting how nervous and agitated she seemed, she suddenly asked:

"Well! Have you heard anything more of that woman, Mrs. Petre?"

"I believe she's gone abroad," I replied, with evasion.

Phrida's lips twitched convulsively, and she gave vent to a slight sigh, of relief, perhaps.

"Tell me, dearest," I said, bending and stroking her soft hair from her white brow. "Are you still so full of anxiety? Do you still fear the exposure of the truth?"

She did not reply, but of a sudden buried her face upon my shoulder and burst into tears.

"Ah!" I sighed, still stroking her hair sympathetically, "I know what you must suffer, darling--of the terrible mental strain upon you. I believe in your innocence--I still believe in it, and if you will bear a stout heart and trust me, I believe I shall succeed in worsting your enemies."

In a moment her tear-stained face was raised to mine.

"Do you really believe that you can, dear?" she asked anxiously. "Do you actually antic.i.p.ate extricating me from this terrible position of doubt, uncertainty, and guilt?"

"I do--if you will only trust me, and keep a brave heart, darling," I said. "Already I have made several discoveries--startling ones."

"About Mrs. Petre, perhaps?"

"About her and about others."

"What about her?"

"I have found out where she is living--down at Colchester."

"What?" she gasped, starting. "You've been down there?"

"Yes, I was there yesterday, and I saw Ali and the two servants."

"You saw them--and spoke to them?" she cried incredibly.

"Yes."