"Miss Lawrence may, indeed, have sailed on the _Umbria_," murmured Godfrey, after a moment's silent contemplation of the ghastly countenance. "She had every reason to flee--to the earth's end, if possible. For she left her husband here!" I could find no word of answer; my throat was dry, contracted; I felt that I was suffocating. So this was the secret! No wonder we had not guessed it! "One can easily build up the story," went on Godfrey, in a voice carefully lowered. "She came here called by the note, desperate, ready for anything--ready even to kill the devil who'd written it. For he was a devil, Lester--look at his face!" It was in truth, repellent enough--doubly repellent now with that triumphant leer upon it--cold and hard, with cruel lines about the mouth; a bloated face, too, marked by dissipation and bestiality. I shuddered at the thought that Marcia Lawrence may have once been in his power--that he had tried to drag her down from her sweet girlish innocence---- "He deserved it!" I said hoarsely. "He deserved it--and more!" "Yes," agreed Godfrey, "no doubt he did. If she was ever in his hands, she must have suffered the torments of hell." He fell silent a moment, staring down at the face. "But I don't understand," I burst out, forgetting for a moment to lower my voice; "I can't understand----" Godfrey laid his hand sternly upon my lips. "Neither do I," he said; "but don't shout like that." The words recalled me suddenly to a sense of our danger. "We'd better get out of this," I whispered. "Yes--and as soon as we can. We'll have to call in the police. Besides," he added grimly, "I've got to get off the story and it's getting late." "The story?" I echoed, suddenly sick at heart. "So far as I know it, Lester. There can be no doubt about this body, I suppose?" A curious sound behind me, as of a dog panting for breath, sent a sudden chill through me. I raised the torch and sent a beam of light sweeping about the cellar. It rested for an instant on a face peering at us around a corner of the wall--a face so distorted, so demoniac, that it seemed scarcely human. Then there was a flash of flame, a report, and the torch crashed from my hand, while a gust of acrid smoke whirled into my face. I felt Godfrey clutch me and pull me down beside him into the half-filled grave; I even fancied that I touched the staring face which lay there. In an agony of horror I struggled to free myself, to stand erect, ready to brave any danger rather than that, but he held me fast. "Steady, Lester, steady," he whispered. "If she fires again, I'll drop her," and I knew that he held his revolver in his hand. "Don't do that!" I gasped. "Don't do that! You've no right to do that!" "I have the right to defend myself," retorted Godfrey grimly, and waited, his muscles tense.