"No," she answered. "It is impossible to tell you. To attempt a retaliation would only prove fatal." "Fatal!" I echoed. "Why?" "All that has been attempted is of the past," she responded. "It is best that it should remain as it is. If you seek out that man, there will be brought upon us a vengeance more terrible than it is possible to contemplate. Do not ask me to divulge the identity of this man, for I cannot." "You will not, you mean," I said in a hard voice. "No," she answered hoarsely. "No, I dare not." "Then you fear this man who has attempted to kill you--this man who sought to take you from me!" I cried fiercely. "Surely I, the man you are to marry, have a right to demand this assassin's name." "You have a right, Clifton, the greatest of all rights, but I beg of you to remain patient," she answered calmly. "There are reasons why I must still preserve a silence on this matter--reasons which some day you will know." "Does this man love you?" She shrugged her shoulders and extended her thin, white hands vaguely. "And he is jealous of me!" I cried. "He attempted to kill you because you came here to me." "Remain in patience, I beg of you," she said imploringly. "Make no surmises, for you cannot guess the truth. It is an enigma to which I myself have no key." "The name of the man who has attempted to murder you is Hibbert," I observed, annoyed at her persistent concealment of the truth. "He is the man who was your lover. You can't deny it." She raised her beautiful eyes for a moment to mine, then said simply-- "Surely you trust me, Clifton?" Her question drove home to me the fact that my suspicion was ill-founded, and that jealousy in this affair was untimely and unnecessary. I, however, could not rid myself of the thought that Hibbert, this lover she had discarded, had attempted to wreak a deadly revenge. All the circumstances pointed to it, for he would know the whereabouts of my chambers, if not from Muriel previously, then from Aline, that woman whom once in my hearing he had urged to the commission of a crime. "I trust you implicitly, Muriel," I answered. "But in this matter I am determined that the man whose hand struck you down shall answer for his crime to me." "No, no!" she cried in alarm. "Don't act rashly, for your own sake, and for mine. Wait, and I will ere long give you an explanation which I know will astound you. To-day I cannot move in the matter because I am not allowed out. When I can go out I will find a means of giving you some explanation." Then, lifting her dark, trustful eyes to mine she asked again, "Clifton, cannot you trust me? Will you not obey me in this?" "Certainly," I answered at last, with considerable reluctance I admit. "If you promise me to explain, then I will wait." "I promise," she answered, and her thin, white hand again clasped mine, and our lips met to seal our compact. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. TO SEEK THE TRUTH.