“I don’t want you to think unkindly of me because I will not discuss my girlhood, will you?” “No. Certainly not.” “I will say this much: My father and mother bore a title. By rights I should have one now; but I am supposed to have died, and the title that is mine is now borne by another—and I would not deprive her of it under any circumstances. Also, there was an episode in my life then which I do not care to have raked up again, now, that it is forgotten.” “Then let it rest.” “You are sure that you will not think me ungrateful?” “Quite sure, Nan. Forget it.” “Thank you. One thing more. You know that Jimmy’s real name is Howard Drummond; you know that that is one of the proudest family names in England.” “Yes.” “Well, if in searching and bringing to justice Bare-Faced Jimmy it should develop to your understanding, will you keep my secret and never talk about it?” “Yes. I promise.” “In that case I will assist you all I can.” “Good. Now let us talk for a moment about this woman who is called Juno, and who seems to be Jimmy’s present wife.” “Yes.” “Does the name she bears—Juno—suggest anything to you?” “Do you mean that I may have known her in the past? No; it does not.” “Nor her description?” “I have not heard that. Describe her.” “First, she seems to be a woman of extraordinary beauty, and of an uncommon type I should say, from all that I have heard.” “Light or dark?” “A pronounced brunette—rather of the Spanish type, I should say, from what I have been told; or the Italian.” “No; it suggests nothing. Perhaps if I should see her, or a picture of her, it might suggest something; but at the present moment I have no information to offer.” “When you were a child you were—as children are so—practically in love with Jimmy, were you not?” “Yes. I never got over it, either, until I discovered that he was a professional criminal.” “Was there not another young woman, or girl, at that time, who——” She held up a hand and stopped him. “Yes,” she said, “there was such a girl. It was to her that I referred when I said that there was an episode in that past life of mine, when I was a girl, which I did not care to recall.” “I see. Tell me something about that girl.” “Why? With the idea that she may be this Juno?” “Yes.” “That is impossible.” “Why so?” “Because that girl is—dead.” “My dear Nan, the fact that one is reported dead does not make that person dead. We have sufficient proof of that in the present existence of Jimmy Duryea.” “But I saw this girl in her coffin.” “I supposed that I saw Jimmy in his coffin. You have not forgotten that, have you?” “No.” “Nor that you were there on that island where he was supposed to have died, just before his death was reported? That you, in person, attended what was supposed to be Jimmy’s funeral?” “No. I haven’t forgotten any of that. But this case is different.” “How is it different? Tell me that.”