"He was, really. For he joined the 'Friends of Man' when he was at the British Emba.s.sy at Petersburg long years ago; and no sooner had he been initiated than he turned round and denounced the society and all its works. Worse still, he declared his intention of hindering it from carrying out its programme. He would have been got rid of there and then, but as ill-luck would have it he had, by an unheard-of chain of accidents, become possessed of an important doc.u.ment belonging to the society. It was, indeed, a list of the princ.i.p.al people on the executive committee that fell into his hands, and he took the precaution of sending it to England, with instructions that if anything happened to him it should be forwarded to the Russian Police, before he made known his ridiculous objections to our programme. Here, as you will understand, was a most impossible situation with which there was apparently no means of coping.

"For years that one man hampered and frustrated our entire organization. He was practically able to dictate his own terms, for he announced his intention of publishing the list of names if we carried out any important project, and no device could be contrived to stop his being as good as his word. The tyrant has walked unscathed except by mere private enterprise, and the government we could have caused to crumble to the ground has flourished and continued to work evil as before. We have been crippled, paralysed in every direction. It was only last year that there seemed reason to think that Lord Ashiel had removed the doc.u.ment from the Bank of England where it had for so long been guarded, and there appeared to be a possibility that he now kept it in his own house. If that were so, there seemed a good chance of getting hold of it, and how proud I am, Mark, to think that it was I who was chosen to make the attempt!

"I came to England with the best introductions into society, and had no difficulty in making friends with your aunt and obtaining an invitation to stay here. Last year I did not succeed in gaining any information. Your uncle, for some reason, seemed rather to avoid me, and I did not make any headway towards gaining his confidence. I never could be sure if he suspected me. This year there was a question of replacing me by some one else, but it was judged that Lord Ashiel's suspicions would be certainly awakened by the appearance of another Russian, so, in the hope that I was not a.s.sociated in his mind with the people to which he had behaved so basely, I was ordered to try again.

"A member of the society, who occupies a high and responsible position on the council, accompanied me to the neighbourhood, and from time to time I report to him and receive his advice and instructions. He stays in Crianan, so that I have some one within reach to go to for advice. At least, so I am officially informed, but I know very well he is really there to keep watch on me, for it is not the habit of the society to trust its members more than is unavoidable. If it is possible, I go once a week to Crianan and make my report, but I can't always manage to go, and then he rows across the loch after dark and I go out and meet him. He was to come on the night of the murder, and my first thought when I heard of it was that he might be caught in the shrubberies and mistaken for the murderer. But it appears that he had already taken alarm, and I am thankful to say he was able to escape in good time."

"So David really did see some one wandering about that night," Mark commented thoughtfully. "Ah, Julia, if you'd told me all this earlier everything might have been different. Poor old David need never have been dragged into it at all."

She looked at him a moment, as if puzzled, and then continued her story.

"It was thought that I might be able to bring about your uncle's death by some means that should have all the appearance of an accident, and so perhaps not involve action on the part of those who hold the doc.u.ment-that is, if it should prove not to be in his own keeping-for he had always a.s.sured the council that no decisive step would be taken except as a retort to signs of violence on our part, whether directed towards himself or others.

"I have not been able to find any trace of the list. I thought I had it one day in London, when I followed Lord Ashiel to a detective's office, and managed to gain possession of an envelope given him by Lord Ashiel, but as far as I could make out it contained nothing of any importance. It was a bitter disappointment. You can imagine the consternation into which we were thrown by the murder. It seemed certain that his death would be attributed to our organization, and if anyone held the list for him it would be published immediately. Four days have pa.s.sed, however, and my superior has received a cable saying that so far all is well. It looks more and more as if the list had been kept here, but I have hunted everywhere and found nothing. Oh, I have searched without ceasing since the moment I heard of his death! I came here even on the very night of the murder, and moved the body with my own hands in order to get at the bureau drawers. There is a secret way into the room through that old clock there, which leads into the grounds; I found it long ago, one day when I was exploring outside in the shrubberies. I have often been here, and searched, and searched again. Do you know anything of this doc.u.ment, Mark? If you do, I beg and implore you to give it to me. Otherwise I cannot answer for your life; and, as for our marriage, that is out of the question unless I am successful in my undertaking."

It may be imagined with what amazement and growing horror Juliet listened to this avowal. That Julia, the girl with whom she had a.s.sociated on terms of easy familiarity which had been near to becoming something like intimacy in the close contact and companionship of a country-house life, that this girl, an honoured guest in Lord Ashiel's house, should have gained her footing there for her own treacherous ends, or at the bidding of a band of political a.s.sa.s.sins! Juliet could scarcely believe her ears as she heard the calm, indifferent tone in which Julia spoke of the drawbacks to "getting rid" of Lord Ashiel, and of the contemplated "accident" which was to have befallen him. She would have fled from where she stood, if mingled fear and curiosity to hear more had not rooted her to the spot. Her alarm was tempered by the presence of Mark. If this girl should discover her hiding there and show signs of the violence that might be expected from such a character, Mark would be there to protect her. She could trust him to know how to deal with the Russian, whose true nature must now be apparent to him.

But Mark, to her astonishment, had not drawn away from Julia with the repugnance and disgust that were to be expected. Instead, he was looking at her, strangely, indeed, but almost eagerly.

"It was you, then, who moved the body! To think that I never guessed!" he murmured, half to himself. "If I had known, I might have spared myself the trouble to-" Then more loudly he reproached his companion.

"And you have never said a word to me! Oh, Julia, you didn't trust me."

He shook his head at her mournfully.

"Trust you!" she retorted. "Did you trust me? But I would have trusted you," she added, gazing fondly into his eyes, "if I had dared risk the punishment that will surely be meted out to me if it is known I have done so. You don't know how rigid the rules of our society are. But you haven't told me yet if you have the list."

"Not I," he said. "I never heard of its existence. I suppose that anonymous letter that came addressed to Uncle Douglas after his death had something to do with that."

"Did a letter come from Paris? They sent them to him from time to time. It prevented his suspecting me. But you will give me the list if you find it, won't you? It means everything to me."

"Of course I will," he promised. "It is no earthly good to me, so far as I know. But you, when you were looking for it, did you, among all the papers you examined, ever come across such a thing as a will?"

"No, never," she replied. "Mrs. Clutsam told me it could not be found. You may be sure, if I had discovered one which did not leave you everything, I should have destroyed it."

"Dear little Julia!" Mark drew her to him and kissed her. "How sweet you are. There is no one like you!"

"Really? Do you really love me, Mark?"

"Darling, of course I do."

"Will you always? Are you quite, quite sure that I am the one girl in all the world for you, as you are the one man for me?"

"Darling, you are the only one in the world I have ever so much as looked at."

"Would you never, never forget me, or marry anyone else, no matter what happened?"

"Never," he a.s.sured her, "never."

She sighed contentedly.

"What should I do if you forgot me, Mark? I should die. But," she added in a different tone, "I think I should kill you first!"

Mark laughed a little uneasily.

"Hush, hush," he said, "you mustn't talk so much about killing. A minute ago you were talking of killing my poor old uncle. If I took you seriously what should I think? It is lucky I love you as I do, otherwise doesn't it occur to you that it might get you into trouble to talk in this wild way?"

"You can take me as seriously as you like," she answered gravely. "I am serious enough, G.o.d knows. But I shouldn't talk about it, even to you, if I didn't know it was safe. You see, I know you are like me."

"Like you? I'm dashed if I am! How do you mean? I am like you?"

She looked at him squarely, and nodded.

"Yes," she said, "you are like me. You would not hesitate to kill if you thought it necessary. You think just the same as me on that subject. Only you have gone farther than I have-yet."

"Julia," he cried, "what do you mean?"

"I mean that I know all about you, Mark," she replied gravely. "I know what you think you have kept secret from me. I know it was you who killed your uncle."

With a m.u.f.fled cry Mark shook himself free, and sprang away from her.

"What are you saying?" he whispered hoa.r.s.ely. "You are mad, girl! But I won't have such lies uttered, I won't have it, I tell you."

With terrified amazement Juliet saw his face change, become ugly, distorted. But Julia showed no sign of alarm.

"Why get so excited?" she asked calmly. "What does it matter? Do you imagine I would betray you? I, who would sell my soul for you! I know you did it. It is no use keeping up this pretence of innocence to me, who had more right to kill him than you. Why shouldn't you kill who you wish? But don't say you didn't do it. It is foolish. I saw you."

"It is a lie. You can't have seen me," Mark declared again, but with less a.s.surance. "You were in the drawing-room all the time. Lady Ruth and Maisie Tarver both said so. The drawing-room doesn't even look out on the garden. There is no room that does, except the library, and you weren't there then, anyhow."

"I didn't see you fire the shot," said Julia, "but I saw you afterwards when you went to put back your rifle in the gun-room. I told you that after the first search in the grounds was over, and everyone had gone up to bed, I slipped out of the house by the door near the gunroom, and came round to the library to see if Lord Ashiel had carried the list on him. When I came back, I let myself in quietly by the door which I had left unbolted, and had just got half-way up the back stairs when I heard footsteps in the pa.s.sage below, and crouched down behind the banisters. I saw you come along the pa.s.sage, carrying an electric lantern in one hand and your rifle in the other. I saw you look round anxiously before opening the gun-room door and going in. When you had vanished, I hurried on up to my room, for it was not the time or place to tell you what I had seen, but I left a crack of my door open, and after rather a long while saw you pa.s.s along the pa.s.sage to your own room; this time without your gun. I knew, of course, that you had been cleaning it and putting it away."

She spoke with the indifference with which one may refer to a regrettable but incontrovertible fact, and Mark seemed to feel it useless to deny what she said.

"You had no right to spy on me," he exclaimed angrily when she had done.

"Oh, Mark," she cried, dismayed, "I wasn't spying. It was the merest accident. And I think it's horrid of you to mind my knowing. Why didn't you tell me all about it before. I might have helped you, I'm sure."

But he would have none of her endearments, and threw off the hand she laid upon his arm with a rough gesture.

"Mark, oh, Mark," she wailed, "don't be angry with me! You know I can't bear it. I can bear anything but that. Don't, don't be angry with me."

She had but one thought; it was for him, and he who ran might read it shining in the depths of her great eyes. After a few minutes of sulking, Mark relented.

"No one could be angry with you for long, Julia," he declared.

Instantly she was once more all smiles.

"Don't ever be angry with me again," she urged, her hands in his. "And now that you have forgiven me, tell me all about it. What made you do such a dreadful thing, Mark? You must have had some good reason, I know. I never would doubt that."

"There's nothing much to tell," he said unwillingly. "I had a good reason, yes. I must have money. It is for your sake, darling, that I must get it. I can't marry you without it. I hadn't meant to kill him, if I could get it without. He was ill, and had left his fortune to me. I thought I should get it in time, by letting Nature take her course. It was that or ruin, and I really had to do it for your sake, darling. I didn't want to hurt the old boy. Why should I? It's not a pleasant thing to have to do. But I had no choice-there was no other way of getting enough money, and I simply had to get it. It was his life or mine. You don't understand. I can't explain. It just had to be done, and there's an end of it. Everything was going wrong. That girl, that Byrne girl, I imagined he was going to marry her. You know we all did. That would have spoilt everything. At first I thought she could be got out of the way, but she seemed to bear a charmed life."