My chief suspected me, had suspected me from the very first, of being the murderer. The red light was in my eyes at last. CHAPTER XVII A SINGULAR DISMISSAL Perhaps it may be wondered why I didn’t at once make a frank statement of my part in the mystery to my kind-hearted chief and throw myself on his mercy. I was withheld by more than one reason. In the first place I couldn’t feel sure that I should be believed. I had no means of proving my innocence. The circumstantial evidence against me was as strong as it could be. I had the strongest motive to kill the monster who was trying to put my secret to the basest use; I had been on the spot, and been there in disguise; and I had given him a drug which was only less dangerous than the one that had caused his death. Who would believe that I had stopped short there? And Sir Frank Tarleton had shown by this time that he did not believe me. To him, as to everyone else, it must appear evident that the man who was prepared to commit a crime in defence of a woman would be prepared to tell a lie as well. Then, again, the relations between my chief and me were not merely private ones. Both of us were Government officials, and I owed my own post to his recommendation. His official conscience might well be different from his private one. He might be willing to make excuses for me personally, and yet feel it his duty to report to the Department we both served that I was no longer worthy of its confidence. And, lastly, there was the consideration that had controlled my action all along. My secret was Violet’s secret. To no living being had I a right to tell it without her consent. That consent I need not say no peril to myself would have tempted me to ask. The only question I now put to myself was whether I ought not to put her on her guard by letting her know what I had come to fear. I slept, or tried to sleep, that night without coming to my decision. In the morning Sir Frank extracted from the pile of letters beside his plate on the breakfast-table one with an earl’s coronet on the flap of the envelope. He did not show me the contents, but said carelessly, “I shall be out to lunch. Lord Ledbury is anxious to see me in John Street.” The news decided me. Before Violet was exposed to any further questioning from my shrewd chief she must be warned how things stood. I couldn’t complain of not being included in the invitation. In Lord Ledbury’s eyes naturally I was a mere subordinate, only acting under Tarleton’s orders. There was another letter that interested the consultant more than the Earl’s. It came from New Scotland Yard. “Sarah Neobard and her mother have gone abroad,” he remarked with something like satisfaction. “Charles has sent a man after them. They seem to have gone to Paris. You must have frightened that young woman rather badly.”