"I make one last appeal to you," she cried in soft, supplicating tones--"one last appeal. I do not purpose keeping a penny of the money--not one farthing. Some papers which fell accidentally into my hands after my husband's death convinced me he came by his money dishonestly. He himself told me you had been of great service to him, and that your actions would not bear the light. Give me, for pity's sake, a chance of restoring this money to those who ought to have it. I did think of dying and shielding his memory, for if I died no one could be surprised at my leaving the wretched money to charities. But it would be better still to give what remains of the money to the rightful owners. Will you tell me who they are?" She caught his hand in hers and drew it towards her. He seized hers eagerly, and held it. "I will for this," he whispered. "We can give all his money back if you will." She snatched her hand away. "That is impossible, sir. I have told you so finally." She essayed to pass by him once more. "Only a minute. I cannot live openly in this country; I must go abroad. I have been concealed close to this place in the hope of meeting you. I may never see you again. Do not go for a minute. Your husband was always good and loyal to me, and I was always loyal to him. He dealt honourably with me in money matters. It was necessary for us to have a hiding-place near this, and I found it. Just before I disappeared he made up his mind to abandon business of all kinds. He had enough of money, and so had I--though of course he was a rich man compared with me. Well, as you know, I disappeared. I went, no matter where. I disappeared because I had no longer any business here, and because of another reason to which I will not again refer. That is all I have to say, except that I left documents which would be intelligible to your husband--they contained the clue to our hiding-place should I die or your husband want it--in Mr. John O'Hanlon's hands for Mr. Davenport and you. Nothing, I suppose, ever reached you about them?" "No." "That, then, is all I have to say." "You will tell me no more? Give me no key?" "Mr. Davenport left you his money. Why should I help you to get rid of it? Good-bye." He turned eastward, went along the cliff, and she moved off slowly in the direction of Kilcash House. CHAPTER XLV. BEYOND THE VEIL. It was Phelan who said it was not the hand of mortal man that had kindled the fire the four men in the Red Cave saw after the dying of the red light on the water. For a long time after he had spoken no human voice was heard. All was silence save the mystic whispers and breathings of the cave, which, after the prodigious clangour lately filling the void, were no more than the ripple of faint air flowing through mere night.