Up till then you had nothing to complain of. Then, Heaven knows
why, but the very girl whom I had gone to Paris to seek came to Runton
in the guise at least of an adventuress."
Andrew lifted his head quickly.
"You admit it at last, then?" he cried.
"Yes, I admit it now," Duncombe agreed.
"You lied to me there--to me who had no eyes, who trusted you. What was
that but betrayal, rank, inexcusable betrayal!"
"Listen, Andrew," Duncombe said. "She told me that she was not Phyllis
Poynton. It was enough for me. I disregarded my convictions. Her word
was my law. She said that she was not Phyllis Poynton, and to me she
never was Phyllis Poynton. She was afraid of you, and I helped her to
avoid you. I admit it! It is the extent of my failing in our friendship,
and you were warned."
"And now?"
"I am here now," Duncombe said a little sadly, "because I love her, and
because I cannot keep away. But she will not see me, and I am no nearer
solving the mystery than ever. On the contrary, I know that I am in
danger here. It is possible that I may be driven to leave Paris
to-night."
"You know where she is now?"
"Yes."
Andrew leaned suddenly over, and his grip was on Duncombe's shoulder
like a vise.
Pages:
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274