"Pray calm yourself, Holford," said Kirk, shifting his position slightly and still leaning easily against the table, "No good can be served by recrimination." The man's cunning was unequalled; his ingenuity almost superhuman. Once I had held him in awe, but now, knowing the truth, that I held information which it was his earnest desire to suppress, I felt triumphant. "I admit," he said, still speaking calmly, as Antonio disappeared and shut the door--"I admit that there are certain ugly facts--very ugly facts which are difficult to forget, but is it not better to be merciful to the innocent and living than to revenge the dead?" "You desire to seal my lips, my dear sir," I said. "Why don't you speak quite plainly?" "Yes," he admitted, "I make that appeal to you because--well, for several very strong reasons--Ethelwynn's future being one." "And what, pray, need I care for that girl's future, now that mine has been wrecked by the devilish machinations of you and your gang?" I cried in bitter anger. "Your denunciation is quite uncalled for, Holford!" he exclaimed. "It is not," I protested. "You know where my wife is, and you refuse to tell me!" was my quick answer. "Please don't let us discuss that further," he urged. "The point is whether you will, or you will not, regard all you saw in this house a couple of months ago as entirely confidential." "Why?" "For reasons which you shall know later. I regret that I cannot explain at this moment, because I should be breaking a confidence," he responded. "But," he added, looking at me very seriously, "a life--a woman's life--depends upon your silence!" I hesitated a moment. "Ah, I see!" I cried. "Then the girl conspired to encompass her father's end, and is now in fear of the impostor!" "I must leave you to your own opinion," he said, with a shrug of his thin shoulders. Then, turning away to the window, he thrust his hands into his pockets, and, with that cosmopolitan air of his, he hummed a verse of that catchy song of the boulevards he so often sang. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE. I AM FACED WITH ANOTHER DIFFICULTY. The careless manner in which Kirk seemed to treat the grave issue of my life enraged me. This man, who in Chiswick posed as shabby and broken-down, was certainly no ordinary person. He was a shrewd, clever adventurer, possessed of resources that had even astonished Sir Mark Edwards. He had entrapped me, for some hidden reason of his own, and now he held me in a hateful bondage. But with the vivid recollection of Mabel upon me, I resolved to defy this enemy of mine at all costs. I was only awaiting the return of the false Professor to unmask the pair, to call a constable, and to give them both in charge.