“I honestly believe you are not half as bad as you seem,” returned Colonel Dacre, with a faint smile. “But tell me, Norah--you know it will not go any further--have you the least reason for suspecting any one of having caused your brother’s death?” “If so, I have no right to speak of my suspicion,” she replied, with a reticence that surprised him; it was so entirely foreign to her character. “Come and see me at the ‘Langham’ a week hence, and I may be able to tell you something. But here we are at Preston.” He helped her down, and they were standing rather close together, her hand in his as he bade her good-by, and expressed his hope that she would apply to him if she required any assistance, when a veiled face bent eagerly out of the window in the full light of a lamp. A gust of wind lifted the gauze just as the train began to move, and the woman drew back hastily; but not before Colonel Dacre had recognized Lady Gwendolyn. CHAPTER XI. “WHAT’S IN A NAME?” Colonel Dacre dropped Mrs. O’Hara’s hand as if it had stung him, and darted forward mechanically, as if to catch up to the train; but his companion’s frightened exclamation restored him to himself. “For mercy’s sake be careful!” she called out, grasping his arm. “If you have left anything in the train you can telegraph.” He stared at her blankly, and answered in a confused sort of way: “I am afraid it is no use telegraphing, for I have no idea where to find her.” “Where to find whom?” “Lady Gwendolyn St. Maur.” “She wasn’t in our train, surely?” “I didn’t know she was, certainly; but I caught a glimpse of her face as it moved off.” “But wasn’t it odd she did not speak to you, Lawrence? I fancied you were near neighbors at Borton, and very intimate.” “Exactly,” he replied, in a vague way. “I saw Lady Gwendolyn this morning; but she did not tell me she was leaving Turoy.” “Perhaps it was a sudden caprice,” replied Mrs. O’Hara carelessly. “But do you intend to stay in Preston to-night, Lawrence?” “No; I am going on, I think; but, really, I have decided nothing yet. I had better see about your cab, had I not? You are going to a hotel, I presume?” “Yes; to the ‘George.’ I shall see you a week hence in town, shall I not?” “If I am alive,” he answered emphatically. “I am quite as anxious as you are to solve this terrible mystery.” They had reached the end of the platform, and were quite alone for the minute. Mrs. O’Hara turned and faced him. “Will you answer me one question, Lawrence?” she said. “I don’t know,” he replied, flushing slightly. “Are you in love with Lady Gwendolyn St. Maur? You know you may trust me, for I am one of those people who seem very frank, and yet never let out a secret. As I am not supposed to have any I am never even questioned, so that I am really as safe a confidante as it is possible for any one to have.” “But I don’t need a confidante, Norah.”