Her argument was conclusive. A few minutes, and he had apparently decided.

"Well, if you compel me, I suppose I must tell you," said he, dropping into a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "If I do, you'll promise never to repeat it?"

"Yes," she replied eagerly.

"Swear to keep the secret. Indeed, it was through my efforts that your life was saved."

"I'll preserve silence," she promised. "Then, the truth is that you were the dangerous rival of a woman in the affections of a man whom she desired should marry her. The man merely admired her, but loved you.

Having set her mind upon marrying him, she deliberately planned that you, the only obstacle, should be removed. The woman--"

"Whose name is Valerie Dedieu," interposed Dolly calmly.

"Why, how did you know?" he asked in surprise.

"I know more than you antic.i.p.ate," replied she meaningly.

"Ah, it was a diabolical plot! The woman--I mean Valerie--planned it with Victor."

"Victor? Who is Victor?"

"Berard--the man who attempted to take your life. But I was about to tell you how it was that I became complicated in the affair. The truth is, they compelled me. The Frenchwoman holds a certain power over me which causes me to be absolutely ruled by her caprices. In her hands I am helpless, for she can order me to perform any menial service, any crime, being fully aware that I could not--that I dare not--disobey her."

He spoke with heartfelt bitterness, as if the whole of the transactions were repugnant to him.

"And you--a clergyman!" Dolly incredulously observed.

"Yes. Unfortunately, our evil deeds pursue us. At times, when we least antic.i.p.ate, the closed pages of one's life are reopened and revealed in all their hideousness."

"Yours is a bitter past, then?" she said in a tone of reproach. "Ah!

now I understand. You are bound to mademoiselle with the same bond of guilt as Jack Egerton?"

"Who--who told you it was guilt?" he stammered.

"You and Mr. Egerton are bound to Valerie Dedieu by a secret," she said.

An astounding thought had just crossed her mind. The Christian name Victor occurred frequently in the report in the _Gaulois_, which she had had translated, and which she had since treasured carefully, determined to use it as a final and unimpeachable doc.u.ment to bring Nemesis upon her enemy when occasion offered.

"I understand. Much is now plain to me," she continued in a firm, harsh voice. "Yet you have not answered my first question. Mademoiselle's husband left England some months ago, and has not since been heard of.

Tell me, where is he?"

"I'm quite as ignorant of his whereabouts as yourself."

"Then, I'll put the question in another form. Why has Hugh Trethowen disappeared?"

"I don't know."

"I'm convinced that you know where he is."

"I do not. How should I?" he asked impatiently. "It is futile to prevaricate. If you are one of mademoiselle's myrmidons, as you admit, you surely can form some idea why he has disappeared so mysteriously.

Are you not aware that he is no longer living with her, and that all efforts to discover him have been in vain?"

"I--I really know nothing, and care less, about your lover," he answered disdainfully. "Besides, why should you renew your friendship with him now he is married?"

His words maddened her. She had attacked her adversary with circ.u.mspection, but in her sudden ebullition of pa.s.sionate indignation she gave vent to a flood of words, which, as soon as they were uttered, she regretted.

"I did not ask you to a.s.sist Hugh," she cried. "I know he--like myself--has fallen a victim to the machinations of your hired a.s.sa.s.sins.

But you refuse to tell me where I can find him, and speak of him as my lover. Even if we do love one another, what does it concern you? Would you preach to me of morals?" This last remark caused him to start, and he scowled at her ominously. "I warn you," she said. "The day is not far distant when the whole mystery will be cleared up, and your villainy exposed."

"Perhaps so," he replied, with a forced laugh. "I'm sure I don't care."

"But you will, I fancy. You'll be glad enough, when the time arrives, to fall upon your knees, as you did just now, and beg for mercy."

"You're mad," he said in a tone of disgust.

She did not heed his remark, but continued--

"Perhaps," she cried, "you will deny that a celebrated case was recently investigated by the a.s.size Court of the Seine, and was popularly known as the Mystery of the Boulevard Haussmann. Perhaps you will deny that Valerie Dardignac and Mrs. Trethowen are the same person; that she--"

"What are you saying?"

"The truth. Moreover, I tell you I intend having satisfaction from you who lured me almost to my death."

"Oh! How?" he asked defiantly.

"By a very simple process. I have merely to place the police in possession of the true facts regarding the crime which startled Paris not long ago. You shall not escape me now."

He stood erect, glaring at her, his mouth twitching, his face pale, with a murderous expression upon it.

"So those are your tactics, miss?" he cried, with rage, springing upon her, and clutching with both hands at her throat. "You are the only person who knows our secret."

"Help! police!" she shouted in alarm, noticing his determined manner.

Her cries echoed through the great empty church, but no a.s.sistance came.

His fingers tightened their hold upon her throat. He was strangling her.

The light had died away from above, and the shadows mingled in a shapeless ma.s.s.

"Help! help!" she screamed again; but her voice was fainter, for she was choking.

"Silence!" he hissed. "It's you--you who would brand me as a murderer, and send me to the gallows! Do you think I'm going to allow you to do that! By heaven, you shan't do it!"

She attempted to scream, but he placed his hand over her mouth.

His face was blanched, and his eyes gleamed with murderous hate as he glanced quickly around. His gaze fell upon the altar. Releasing her, he bounded towards it, and s.n.a.t.c.hed up a heavy bra.s.s vase.

She saw his intention, but was powerless to recede.