He observed that she was embarrassed in her manner, that she spoke with some constraint, and that she was blushing. A presentiment seized him. Presentiment is as certain as coincidence. He, too, changed colour. But he waited. They remained standing face to face. “Tell me first,” she said, “is the Possession of your mind wholly gone? Are you quite free from the dreadful thing?” “Happily, yes. I am quite free. My mind is completely clear again. There is plenty to think about--one is not likely to forget the last few weeks--but I can think as I please. My will is my own once more.” “I also am quite free. The first thing that I want to say is this: What are we to do with our knowledge?” “You are the person to decide. If you wish, it shall be proclaimed abroad.” “I cannot possibly wish that.” “Or, if you wish, a history of the case shall be written out and shown to every member of the family, and placed with the other documents of our people, so that those who follow shall be able to read and understand the history.” “No. I want the story absolutely closed, so that it can never again be reopened. In a few years the memory of the event itself will have vanished from the village; your cousins of the Commercial Road will certainly not keep the story alive; besides, they know nothing. There remains only the Book of Extracts. Let us first burn the Book of Extracts.” Leonard produced the volume. Constance tore out the leaves one by one, rolled them up, laid them neatly in the grate, put the cover on the top, and set light to the whole. In one minute the dreadful story was destroyed; there was no more any evidence, except in the piles of old newspapers which are slowly mouldering in the vaults of the British Museum. “Never again!” she said. “Never again will we speak of it. Nobody shall know what we discovered. It is our secret--yours and mine. Whose secret should it be but yours and mine?” “If it were a burden to you, I would it were all mine.” “It is no burden henceforth. Why should that be a burden which has been forgiven? It is our secret, too, that the suffering was laid upon us, so that we might be led to the discovery of the truth.” “Were we led? You would make me believe, Constance--even me--in supernatural guidance. But it seems natural, somehow, that you should believe that we were, as you say, led.” “You, who believe nothing but what you see, you will not understand. Oh! it is so plain to me--so very plain. You have been forced--compelled against your will--to investigate the case. Who compelled you? I know not; but since the same force made me follow you, I think it was that murdered man himself. Confess that you were forced; you said so yourself.” “It is true that I have been absorbed in the case.” “Who sent your cousin from the East End? Who fired your imagination with half-told tales of trouble? Who sent you the book? How do you explain the absorbing interest of a case so old, so long forgotten?” “Is it not natural?”