"I know," she responded in a voice scarcely above at whisper, the voice of a woman driven to desperation.

"But you must arm yourself against her," he urged.

"Together we are strong enough to defeat any attack that she may make."

"Tell me plainly," she asked, dropping her voice until it was scarcely above a whisper, "do you, yourself, fear her?"

"Yes. She is the only person who, besides ourselves, knows the truth,"

he responded in a low tone.

"And you would set a trap into which she will fall?" she went on, still in a whisper. "Come, do not let us prevaricate longer. You intend to kill her?"

There was dead silence. At last her companion spoke.

"Well," he answered, "and if your surmise is correct?"

"Then, once and for all," she said, raising her voice, "I tell you I'll have no hand whatsoever in it?"

He was apparently taken aback by the suddenness of her decision.

"And you prefer to be left unprotected against the vengeance of La Gioia!" he said harshly.

"Yes, I do," she said determinedly. "And recollect that from to-night I refuse to be further a.s.sociated with these vile schemes of yours. You deceived me once; you shall never do so again!"

He laughed aloud.

"And you think you can break from me as easily as this. Your action to-night is foolish--suicidal. You will repent it."

"I shall never repent. My hatred of you is too strong!"

"We shall see," he laughed.

"Let me pa.s.s!" she cried, and leaving him, walked quickly down the path, and in a few moments the flutter of her light dress was lost in the darkness.

Her companion hurried after her.

I emerged quickly from my hiding-place, and followed them as far as the stile. He had overtaken her, and was striding by her side, bending and talking earnestly as they crossed the open gra.s.sland.

To follow sufficiently close to overhear what he said was impossible without detection, therefore I was compelled to remain and watch the receding figures until they became swallowed up in the darkness. Then, turning, I pa.s.sed through the belt of wood again, and, scaling a wall, gained the high-road, which, after a walk of half an hour, took me back to Hounslow.

That night I slept but little. The discovery I had made was extraordinary! Who was this woman with the strange name? "La Gioia"

meant in Italian "The Jewel," or "The Joy." Why did they fear her vengeance?

In the morning, as I descended to breakfast, the landlord of the inn, standing in his shirt-sleeves, met me at the foot of the stairs.

"Have you heard the terrible news, sir?" he inquired.

"No," I said in surprise. "What news?"

"There was murder committed last night over in Whitton Park!"

"Murder?" I gasped. "Who has been murdered?"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

I PRACTISE A NEW PROFESSION.

"Why, the Colonel--Colonel Chetwode!" the man answered excitedly.

"Colonel Chetwode!" I gasped. "Impossible!"

"It's a fact," he declared. "The whole thing's a deep mystery. They found him at five o'clock this morning."

"Tell me all about it," I urged.

"Mr Plummer, sergeant of police, was in here half an hour ago, and he told me all about it. According to what he says, it seems that a workman going across the park to Twickenham early this morning, saw the body of a man on the edge of the lake, half in the water. He rushed forward, and to his horror found it was the Colonel, quite dead."

"Drowned?"

"No; he wasn't drowned. That's the curious part of it. He was murdered."

"How?"

"By a blow on the head, the police believe. Plummer says that there are lots of marks near the edge of the lake as though a struggle took place."

"Extraordinary!" I e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "You say he was quite dead when discovered. Was a doctor called?"

"Yes; the police surgeon, Doctor Douglas. He declared that the poor Colonel had been murdered, and had been dead several hours."

"Is there no suspicion of the a.s.sa.s.sin?" I inquired, as the thought of the man whom I had watched in the Park dashed through my brain.

"None whatever," he answered. "The Colonel was very popular everywhere, and was always good to the poor. It's his wife who isn't liked; she's a rum un', they say."

"Where was the body found?" I inquired, when I had seated myself at the table while he had taken up a position before the empty fireplace to continue gossiping.

"Ah!" he said, "you wouldn't, of course, know the spot, for you've never been in the park. There's a path which leads across the gra.s.s at the back of the house through some thickets, and, skirting the lake, crosses the brook by a little bridge. It was just by that bridge that the poor fellow was found. They think that just as he had crossed the bridge he was struck down, and then fell backwards into the lake."

"Ah! I understand," I said. "Let's hope that the detectives will discover something when they arrive. It was evidently a most dastardly bit of work."

The man's remark that I had no knowledge of the spot where the body was found aroused me to a sense of my own position. If it were known that I had entered the park that night, might not a serious suspicion fall upon me?

I recollected how, as I had crossed the bridge, I had heard distinctly a short cough. The murderer was, without doubt, lurking there when I had pa.s.sed.

"Every one is talking of it. Lots of people are going down to see the spot. I shall go down presently. Do you care to come?" the landlord asked.

I acceded willingly, for I wished to see the place in daylight, and, as one of a crowd of sightseers, I should escape observation.

While I ate my breakfast, the man, full of the mystery, continued discussing it in all its phases. I allowed him to run on, for every word he spoke was, to me, of intense interest.