“Yes. I—I’m a vile wretch; as degraded as the woman who walks the pavement. I killed my son! For twenty years he was ignorant of his parentage, but, alas! he discovered the secret of his dishonourable birth. As the living evidence of my shame he declared he would denounce me—I, who had supplied him with money and secretly guided his career. When he knew I was his mother he loathed me; he cursed me for my sin! His hatred stung me; he threatened to expose me to my husband. Moreover, he fell in love with my lawful daughter, Wanda, then studying in Petersburg! What was I to do?” She paused. Her hands were clasped; her agonised face was uplifted in supplication. “Ah! do not shrink from me!” she cried. “Have mercy, for here, before Heaven, I swear I am penitent! Exposure meant ruin. Death only could rid me of the terrible Nemesis. I went to Petersburg—followed him—and—and—you know the rest. I—his mother—murdered him!” Her chin rested upon her breast; her white lips moved again, but no sound came from them. “Madam,” I said at length, taking her hand and assisting her to rise, “this interview is painful to us both, let us end it.” “Will you not spare me? will you not be merciful and accept my offer?” she implored. “I cannot. I pity you, and hope forgiveness may be yours.” “You will not accept the dowry?” I shook my head. She turned slowly, and, blinded by tears, tottered out, closing the door gently after her. * * * * * The newspapers of the following evening contained a sensational item of news, headed “Suicide of an M.P.’s wife.” It ran as follows:— “Mrs. Elworthy, wife of Mr. Harold Elworthy, M.P., of Brook Street, Grosvenor Square, was discovered dead in her dressing-room this morning. A small bottle containing arsenic was found at her side, together with a letter which leaves no doubt that she committed suicide. The contents of the letter have not been made public, but it is rumoured that the confession is of a very remarkable character.” An inquest was held, and a verdict of “suicide whilst temporarily insane” returned. Immediately following this came the announcement that the member for North-west Huntingdon had accepted the stewardship of the Chiltern Hundreds and gone abroad, accompanied by his daughter Wanda. They have never returned. CHAPTER XV. THE TZAR’S SPY. A chaos of terrible recollections bewilders me. I have the sense of having trodden a stony highway during long years, but have now taken my last step for the present in the blood-spotted pathway to Revolution.