"One cannot speak ill of those of whose hospitality one is partaking," she answered with a calm smile. "Is it not sufficient for the present that you are warned?" "But why?" I demanded. "I am always a welcome guest here." Again she smiled, with a strange curl of the lip, I thought. "I do not deny that," she answered. "Have I not, however, already pointed out that treachery may be marvellously well concealed?" Did she really warn me of the danger of associating with these intimate friends of hers merely because in her heart she really loved me? or had she some ulterior motive in getting me out of the way? She was hand-in-glove with this suspected family, therefore the latter seemed the theory most feasible. Yes, she was undoubtedly playing me false. A new thought suddenly arose within me, and with my eyes fixed upon her I said, in a voice hard and determined-- "Eva, just now you gave utterance to a remark which is to me full of meaning. You said that I had escaped death by little short of a miracle. True, I have." Then I paused. "Yet, if the truth were told, have you not also escaped a swift and sudden end by means almost as miraculous?" Her face blanched instantly, her mouth, half-opened, seemed fixed. She was unable to articulate, and I saw what an effect this speech of mine had upon her. She tottered to the table and laid her hand upon it in order to steady herself. Her eyes glared upon me for an instant, like those of some animal brought to bay. Yet, with a marvellous self-control, her white face a moment later relaxed into a smile, and she replied--"I really don't know to what you refer. In the course of our lives we have many hairbreadth escapes from death, for dangers are around us on every side." By this I saw what a consummate actress she was, and was filled with regret that I had thus referred to the tragedy at Kensington, fearing lest this revelation of my knowledge should hamper Boyd in his inquiries. Through all she kept a calm and steady judgment that was remarkable. "Reflect at leisure," I responded, "and perhaps you will not find my words quite so puzzling as your own veiled references." "A few minutes ago," she exclaimed reproachfully, "you declared that you loved me. Now, however, you appear to entertain a desire to taunt me." "With what?" She hesitated, for she saw how nearly she had been entrapped. Every woman is a born diplomatist, so she answered-- "With having endeavoured to mislead you." "I only know that I love you, Eva," I said in softer tones, again tenderly taking her hand. "I only know that I think of no other woman in all the world besides yourself. I only know that I cannot live without your love." Her bosom heaved and fell painfully, and from her large blue eyes tears sprang--quick, salt, bitter drops that burned her as they fell. "Ah, no?" she cried protestingly. "Do not let us talk of that. Do not let us dream of the impossible."