"Then, believe me, it is necessary for you to leave this place immediately. I--you--are being pursued by some one who--who wishes to separate us." "Oh, no, not that!" she cried. "But how can any one separate us, when God has joined us together?" "It's a long story and I have no time to explain it now. All I ask is that you will trust me blindly for the present, and do exactly what I tell you to." "I will," she murmured submissively. "Thank you. Will you please call your nurse?" She touched a bell. The same middle-aged woman appeared of whom he had caught a glimpse on his former visit. "Good-morning, nurse. Your patient seems pretty fit to-day." "Mrs. Thompkins is recovering very rapidly." "Can I speak to the doctor?" asked Cyril. "I am sorry, but he has just left." "Too bad!" Cyril knitted his brows as if the doctor's absence was an unexpected disappointment. "Mrs. Thompkins must leave here at once and I wanted to explain her precipitate departure to him." "You might telephone," suggested the nurse. "Yes, or better still, I shall call at his office. But his absence places me in a most awkward predicament." Cyril paced the room several times as if in deep thought, then halted before the nurse. "Well, there is no help for it. As the doctor is not here, I must confide in you. Thompkins is not our real name. The doctor knows what that is and it was on his advice that we discarded it for the time being. I can't tell you our reason for this concealment nor why my wife must not only leave this house as soon as possible, but must do so unobserved. Will you help us?" "I--I don't know, sir," answered the nurse dubiously, staring at Cyril in amazement. "If you will dress my wife in a nurse's uniform and see that she gets out of here without being recognised, I will give you £100. Here is the money." The nurse gave a gasp and backed away from the notes, which Cyril held temptingly toward her. "Oh, I couldn't, sir, really I couldn't. The doctor would never forgive me. Besides it seems so queer." "I promise you on my word of honour that the doctor need never know that you helped us." But the woman only shook her head. "What makes you hesitate?" continued Cyril. "Do you think I am trying to bribe you to do something dishonourable? Ah, that is it, is it?" He gave a short laugh. "Look at my wife, does she look like a criminal, I ask you?" "She certainly doesn't," answered the nurse, glancing eagerly from one to the other and then longingly down at the money in Cyril's hand. "Well, then, why not trust your instinct in the matter? My wife and I have been placed, through no fault of our own, in a very disagreeable position. You will know the whole story some day, but for the present my lips are sealed. International complications might arise if the truth leaked out prematurely." Cyril felt that the last was a neat touch, for the woman's face cleared and she repeated in an awe-struck voice: "International complications!"