“That is very possible.” “That brings me to the point about which I wished particularly to question you.” “What is that, Mr. Carter?” “Nan, do you remember the occasion of our first meeting?” “As if I ever would forget it!” she said reproachfully. “Oh, I don’t mean the part of it that you are referring to, Nan. What I did then, in assisting you to put behind you forever the life you had been leading with that man, I would have done for anybody. I would be glad to do it again for any other woman, circumstanced as you were.” “I know that; but it does not render me the less grateful, for all that.” “Possibly not. But, Jimmy was just out of Sing Sing, then, after serving the best part of a four years’ sentence.” “Oh, yes, I remember it quite well.” “You told me then, and in subsequent conversation, that you had known Jimmy when you were children; that both of you came from good families in England; that you had gone to South Africa as governess in the family of an army officer; that a considerable time afterward Jimmy drifted to that part of the world also; that your acquaintance, and your childhood’s romance was renewed, and that you married him. Then you came to this country together, and it was not until long afterward that you discovered what his real occupation in life was. That is substantially correct, isn’t it?” “Yes.” “Well, Nan, I never knew any of the particulars of that old life of yours—I refer to the time when you and Jimmy were children. Will you tell me about that now?” “Must I?” “I think so.” “Why?” “Because I think that this new woman in the case—this Juno who is now his wife—also had to do with that old life.” Nan shook her head in a decided manner. “No,” she said, “I do not think that.” “Nevertheless, it may be so. The woman is some one who has known all about Jimmy, what he has been and what he is now. She did not marry him, thinking he was Ledger Dinwiddie; she married him knowing who he was, and helped him to carry out the deception—or, if the plot arose after they were married, it is all the more proof that she is of his own kind; a crook like he is.” “Oh, yes, I agree to that. But—she might have known him after he went to the bad, and I should assume that it is more likely that she did.” “Nevertheless, tell me something about that old life.” “No, Mr. Carter; please don’t ask me. At the risk of offending you I must refuse. I am not the person I was then. That girl is dead; I will not bring her to life. I am Nan Nightingale now, and no other. Even if Jimmy should escape his just deserts, because of my reticence, I would not speak.” “Very well. Will you do another thing?” “What is that?” “Will you go with me and help to run Jimmy down?” “Yes. Anywhere.” “And for the sake of what I want to accomplish, will you become one of my assistants for a time?” “Yes.” “Then that is settled.” “Wait just a moment, Mr. Carter.” “Well?”