"You need not reproach yourself. For some days I had been haunted by fragmentary visions of the past and before I saw you yesterday, I was practically certain that you were not my husband. Oh! It was not without a struggle that I finally made up my mind that you had deceived me. I told myself again and again that you were not the sort of a man who would take advantage of an unprotected girl; yet the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that my suspicions were correct. Then I tried to imagine what reason you could have for posing as my husband, but I could think of none. I was in despair! I didn't know what to do, whom to turn to; for if I could not trust you, whom could I trust? When I heard my name, it was as if a dim light suddenly flooded my brain. I knew who I was. I remembered leaving Geralton, but little by little I realised with dismay that I was still completely in the dark as to who you were, why you had come into my life. It seemed to me that if I could not discover the truth, I should go mad. Then I decided to appeal to Miss Trevor. She was a woman. She looked kind. She would tell me! I was somehow convinced that she did not know who I was, but I said to myself that she would certainly have heard of my disappearance, for I could not believe that Arthur had allowed me to go out of his life without moving heaven and earth to find me." "You did not know----?" Anita shook her head. "No; it was Miss Trevor who told me that Arthur was dead--that he had been murdered." She shuddered convulsively. "You see," she added with pathetic humility, "there are still so many things I do not remember. Even now I can hardly believe that I, I of all people, killed my husband." Great tears coursed slowly down her cheeks. Cyril ached for pity of her. "Why take it for granted that you did?" he suggested, partly from a desire to comfort her, but also because there really lingered a doubt in his mind. "Do you suspect any one else?" she cried. "Not at present, but----" She threw up her hands with a gesture of despair. "No, of course not. I must have killed him. But I never meant to--you will believe that, won't you? Those doctors were right, I must have been insane!" "I am sure you were not. Arthur only intended to frighten you by sending for those men." "But if I was not crazy, why can I remember so little of what took place on that dreadful night and for some time afterwards?" "I am told that a severe shock often has that effect," replied Cyril. "But, oh, how I wish you could answer a few questions! I don't want to raise your hopes; but there is one thing that has always puzzled me and till that is explained I for one shall always doubt whether it was you who killed Arthur." Again the eager light leaped into her eyes. "Oh, tell me quickly what--what makes you think that I may not have done so?" Cyril contemplated her a moment in silence. He longed to pursue the topic, but was fearful of the effect it might have on her.