"No," she answered. "No. He loved me; I was the only woman in the world he loved--he told me so on the first night he returned to England. Only I had no love to give him in return; it was given to you. But I liked and respected him, and, since he came to me in my dream on that night of his death, it seems that on me should fall the task of finding the man who killed him." "But what can you do, my poor Ida; you a delicately-nurtured girl, unused to anything but comfort and ease? How can you find out the man who killed him?" "Only in one way, through you and by your help. I look to you to leave no stone unturned in your endeavours to find that man, to make yourself acquainted with Mr. Cundall's past life, to find out who his enemies, who his friends were; to discover some clue that shall point at last to the murderer." "Yes," he said, in a dull, heavy voice. "Yes. That is what I must do." "And when," she asked, "when will you begin? For God's sake lose no time; every hour that goes by may help that man to escape." "I will lose no time," he answered almost methodically, and speaking in a dazed, uncertain way. Had it not been for her own excitement, she must have noticed with what little enthusiasm he agreed to her behest. This behest had indeed staggered him! She had bidden him do the very thing of all others that he would least wish done, bidden him throw a light upon the past of the dead man, and find out all his enemies and friends. She had told him to do this, while there, in his own heart, was the knowledge of the long-kept secret that the dead man was his brother--the secret that the dead man had enjoined on him never to divulge. What was he to do? he asked himself. Which should he obey, the orders of his murdered brother, or the orders of his future wife? And Philip, too, had told him on no account to say anything of the story that had lately been revealed. Then, suddenly, he again determined that he would say nothing to her. It was a task beyond his power to appear to endeavour to track the murderer, or to give any orders on the subject; for since he must kelp the secret of their brotherhood, what right had he to show any interest in the finding of the murderer? Silence would, in every way, be best. He rose after these reflections and told her that he was going back to London. And she also rose, and said: "Yes, yes; go back at once! Lose no time, not a moment. Remember, you have promised. You will keep your promise, I know." He kissed her, and muttered something that she took for words of assent, and prepared to leave her. "You will feel better soon, dearest, and happier, I hope. This shock will pass away in time." "It will pass away," she answered, "when you bring me news that the murderer is discovered, or that you have found out some clue to him. It will begin to pass away when I hear that you have found out what enemies he had."