Steel looked at him queerly. "It is odd," he said; "and to my mind it is more than a coincidence. Princess Olga is a clever woman. I have to be very careful with her." "Do you mean to say that she knows anything?" asked Giles. "I am sure she does. I believe she could explain the whole business; but I can't find out how she came to be connected with it. Well, Mr. Ware, I must be off. When I see Dane and get the truth out of him, I'll see you again. I hope, for your sake, that Miss Denham is not the daughter of this man, but from a few words let drop by Dane I fear she is. At all events, sir, you can set your mind at rest about her being guilty of murder. She is innocent. The father did it." Giles departed, much comforted by this statement. He knew well enough that Anne was the daughter of Wilson, alias Denham, alias Franklin, and he shuddered again to think of his pure, good Anne being mixed up with a man who was hand and glove with the criminal classes and a criminal himself. However, he put this matter out of his mind for the moment, and drove to the Westminster flat. If Anne was there, he determined to take her away to a place of safety, and defy Steel and Walter Franklin to do their worst. He went up the stairs, and was told that Mademoiselle Olga was not at home. He was about to inquire after Anne, when the elder Princess, looking pale and anxious, appeared at the door of the drawing-room. She beckoned him in and shut the door. "Have you seen Olga?" she inquired. "No, Princess. Is she not with you?" "She is not," wailed the woman, throwing herself on the couch. "Late last night she went out with Anne. A summons came--some letter--and Anne had to go. Olga insisted on accompanying her. They said they would be back at midnight; but they have not reappeared. I am distracted, Mr. Ware. What shall I do? Where are they?" "Who was the letter from?" "I don't know. It was for Anne, and----" "You call Miss Denham Anne," said Giles abruptly; "and you brought her here. What do you know of her?" "Everything," said the Princess, sitting up. "In spite of Olga I must tell you the truth. Anne Denham is my daughter!" CHAPTER XXI A STORY OF THE PAST This communication was so extraordinary and unexpected that Giles thought the Princess must be out of her mind. But although overcome with emotion, she was sane enough, and seeing his astonishment repeated her statement that Anne Denham was her daughter. The young man sat down to collect his thoughts. "Do you mean to say that she is Mademoiselle Olga's sister?" "Her half-sister," corrected the Princess, sobbing. "I never thought I should find her again, and like this. It's too dreadful!" And in strange contrast to her usual indolent demeanor, she wrung her hands. Giles was still bewildered. "And you--were you the wife of Walter Franklin?" he stammered helplessly.