"I know nothing of the whys and wherefores," she replied. "I only know that she is already married, and I warn you not to lose your heart to her." "Well, what you have told me is curious, but I think--" The remainder of the sentence died upon my lips, for at that moment Beryl burst gaily into the hall, dusty and flushed after cycling, exclaiming-- "We've had such an awfully jolly ride. But the others came along so slowly that Connie and I scorched home all the way from Monkton. How stifling it is to-night!" And she drew the pins from her hat, and, sinking into a chair, began fanning herself, while, at the same moment, her companion, Connie Knowles, a rather smart girl who was one of the party, also entered. Hence our conversation was interrupted--a fact which for several reasons I much regretted. Yet from her words, it seemed plain that she did not know that I was actually her cousin's husband. She knew Beryl's secret, that she was married, but to whom she was unaware. There is an old saying among the _contadinelli_ of the Tuscan mountains, "Le donne dicono semure i vero; ma non lo dicono tutto intero." Alas, that it is so true! That same evening when, after dressing, I descended for dinner, I found Beryl in the study, scribbling a note which, having finished, she gave to the servant. "Is he waiting?" she inquired. "Yes, miss." "Then give it to him--with this;" and she handed the girl a shilling. When, however, she noticed me standing in the doorway she seemed just a trifle confused. In this message I scented something suspicious; but, affecting to take no notice, walked at her side down the corridor into the hall to await the others. She wore a toilette that night which bore the cut of a first-class _couturier_. It was a handsome heliotrope gown with a collar of seed pearls. After dining we danced together, and, in so doing, I glanced down at her white, heaving chest, for her corsage was a trifle lower than others she had hitherto worn. I found that for which my eyes were searching--a tiny dark mark low down, and only just visible above the lace edging of the gown--the tattoo mark which I had discovered on that fateful day, the mark of the three hearts entwined. What, I wondered, did that indelible device denote? That it had some significance was certain. I had been waltzing with her for perhaps five minutes, when suddenly I withdrew my hand from her waist, and halting, reeled and almost fell. "Why, Doctor," she cried, "what's the matter? How pale you are?" "Nothing," I gasped, endeavouring to reassure her. "A little faintness, that is all. I'll go out into the night." And, unnoticed by the others, I staggered out upon the broad, gravelled terrace which ran the whole length of the house. She had walked beside me in alarm, and, when we were alone, suggested that she should obtain assistance. "No," I said; "I shall be better in a moment." "How do you feel?" she inquired, greatly concerned.