"He believed the first story they told him, which at the beginning imposed upon me. He kept watch for them in a way, told them what he could pick up of the various rumours flying about. He was in a state of great alarm one night, when some Member of the House of Commons had told him that Mr Monkton was acquainted with a man of the name of Stent." Reginald Monkton lifted his head. "It is true. I had known him slightly for some years, as a man connected with one or two companies, respectable ones, in which I had shares. I had no idea that he made the greater part of his money by fraud." "And what became of Mr Monkton that night?" asked Wingate, turning to Mrs Saxton. "They caught him unawares, as he was walking from the House, threw a cloth, saturated with a stupefying drug, over his face, put him in a cab, driven by a confederate, and took him to Bolinski's house. They then took off his outer clothes, put them on the person you call the dying man, who could only just walk, and rushed back to Westminster. There they got out, waited a few seconds, hailed a taxi, put him inside, and directed the driver to take him to Chesterfield Street. The rest of that episode you know." "And when was it that you went to Forest View, and masqueraded in the guise of a parlourmaid?" A burning colour crept into her face at the question. It was easy to see that she was feeling her position acutely. It was some seconds before she could control herself sufficiently to order her speech. "They had moved him very speedily from Bolinski's to the house of one of their confederates. Then they took him down to Horsham, where Stent had a house. He came to me one day and said the affairs in which they were interested were maturing slowly. He had hoped to release Mr Monkton very quickly, but owing to the delay it was absolutely necessary they should keep him in custody until the _coup_ came off. They kept him in a secret room there--what is called the priest's room. A woman they trusted had been obliged to go abroad. Would I take her place? He said it would only be for a short time." "And you went?" cried Sheila, with a withering glance. The woman's voice was almost inaudible, as she answered with bowed head: "Yes, I went, but I swear that when I did so I did not know what was really meditated." They looked at her in horror, and Wingate repeated the words, "what was really meditated." "Yes," she said, almost in a whisper. "It was a refined cruelty, the invention of a cunning and malignant mind. Their object was to break down his reason, to reduce him to a condition worse than that of death itself, and then to restore him to his home and child, shattered in health, mind and reputation." CHAPTER THIRTY. THE MYSTERY SOLVED. At those dreadful words, spoken in a low, vibrating voice, a shudder ran through the listeners. Sheila laid her head upon her father's shoulder, and sobbed unrestrainedly. Wingate uttered a cry of horror.