"Most certainly," she responded. "I watched him diligently for more than twelve months, and discovered that his career had been a most extraordinary one, and that he was in association with a man named Graham--who sometimes also called himself Ashwicke--and who was one of the most expert and ingenious forgers ever known. Graham was a continental swindler whom the police had for years been endeavouring to arrest, while the man who was my husband was known in criminal circles as `The Major.' Their operations in England, Belgium, and America were on a most extensive-scale, and in the past eight years or so they have amassed a large fortune, and have succeeded in entering a very respectable circle of society. While keeping watch upon my husband's movements, I found that he, one evening a few months ago, went down to Hounslow, and, unobserved by him, I travelled by the same train. I followed him to Whitton, and watched him meet clandestinely a lady who was one of the guests." "It was myself?" Beryl exclaimed, standing utterly dumbfounded by these revelations. "Yes," the woman went on. "I was present at your meeting, although not sufficiently near to overhear your conversation. By your manner, however, I felt confident that you were lovers, and then a fiendish suggestion--one that I now deeply regret--occurred to me, namely to kill you both by secret means. With that object I went to the small rustic bridge by the lake--over which I knew you must pass on your return to the house, both of you having crossed it on your way there--and upon the hand-rail I placed the poison I had prepared. I knew that if you placed your hand upon the rail the poison would at once be absorbed through the skin, and must prove fatal. My calculations were, however, incorrect, for an innocent man fell victim. Colonel Chetwode came down that path, and, unconsciously grasping the rail, received the sting of death, while you and your companion returned by a circuitous route, and did not therefore discover him." "And is that really the true story of the Colonel's death?" I asked blankly. "Yes," she answered, her chin upon her breast. "You may denounce me. I am a murderess--a murderess?" There was a long and awkward pause. "And can you tell us nothing of our mysterious union and its motive?" I asked her.