I shook my head sorrowfully. Was it unnatural that I should pity her, even though she was my father’s persecutor? Before I could speak to her Bruce was by our side. He had come a few steps to meet us. He held my hands tightly. “I felt sure that you would be coming by this train,” he said. “I have the tickets.” “And you?” I asked. “I am coming with you, of course,” he answered, turning round and walking by my side. Olive Berdenstein was watching him eagerly. He had not taken the slightest notice of her. A faint flush, which had stolen into her face, faded slowly away. She became deadly white; she moved apart and entered the booking office. As she stood taking her ticket I caught a backward glance from her dark eyes which made me shiver. “Why don’t you speak to her?” I whispered. “Why should I?” he answered, coolly. “She is doing her utmost to bring ruin upon you. She is our enemy.” “Not yours.” “If yours, mine,” he declared, smiling down upon me. “Isn’t that so?” “Even now she is willing to make terms,” I said, slowly, with my eyes fixed upon the approaching train. “She is willing----” “Well!” “To spare us, if----” “Well!” “If you will give me up.” He laughed mockingly. “I thought that was all over and done with,” he protested. “No one but a couple of girls could have hatched such a plot. I presumed you were not going to make any further suggestions of the sort seriously?” I have never been quite sure whether I had intended to or not. At any rate, his words and expression then convinced me of the utter hopelessness of such an attempt. The train drew up, and he placed me in an empty carriage. He spoke to the guard and then followed me in. The door was locked. Olive Berdenstein walked slowly by and looked into our compartment. I believe she had meant to travel to London with us, but if so her design was frustrated. For the present, at any rate, we were safe from her. Upon our arrival we took a hansom and drove straight to Victoria Street. My mother was out. We waited impatiently for several hours. She did not return till dusk. Then I told her everything. As she listened to me her face grew white and anxious. “You know him better than any one else in the world,” I cried. “You alone can solve the mystery of his second life. In this letter he speaks of it. Whatever it may be, he has gone back to it now. I want to find him. I must find him. Can’t you suggest something that may help me? If you were not in his whole confidence, at least you must have some idea about it.” She shook her head sadly and doubtfully. “I only knew,” she said, “that there was a second life. I knew that it was there, but I had no knowledge of it. If I could help you I would not hesitate for a single moment.”