which she had changed her mud-bedraggled dress wasin itself sufficient to show that she was well aware that I suspectedher of being implicated in the young man's death, and her mutethankfulness was also very marked.
In silence we walked on through the forest gloom where the damp smell ofthe moss and dead leaves was welcome after the dry August heat outside,until presently, after debating within myself whether it were wise toplace her upon her guard, I suddenly put my hand upon my love's arm,saying--
"Lolita, you know that your interests in every particular are mine,therefore it is, I think, but right that you should know that the policehave already made a discovery in connexion with the--the unfortunateaffair in the park. They have found at the spot the marks of smallshoes with French heels. Casts have been taken of those imprints, andit is suspected that they are of your shoes!"
"My footprints!" she gasped, turning and glaring at me with wide-openfrightened eyes. "Ah! I--I never thought of that! It never occurredto me!" And then I saw how she trembled visibly from head to foot. Shehad striven to remain calm, but had now utterly broken down.
"The situation is perilous," I said quite quietly, "inasmuch as the manRedway has taken casts, and knowing that only you in this district arein the habit of wearing such shoes, I fear he suspects. He will, nodoubt, seek some secret means, probably through the servants, to comparehis cast with the boots you are in the habit of wearing."
"Ah! I see," she remarked thoughtfully. "Then I must either hide ordestroy them all, unknown to Weston."
"That is best. I will help you," I said. "We will do it as soon as wereturn. If you will collect them all I'll pack them in my suit-case andsend them up to the cloak-room at St Pancras. They'll be safe enoughthere for a few months."
"An excellent idea," she said. "I must get rid of them at all costs.I'll order some others from Francis--shoes with flat heels, although Ihate them."
I could not, however, help noticing that she had actually admitted beingpresent at the spot where the dead man was discovered, yet she had madeno mention of him. My object was to learn his name and who he reallywas, but with a woman's cleverness she vouchsafed no information. Ithink she saw that I suspected her of the crime, although my intenselove for her prevented me withdrawing from her in loathing as wouldotherwise have been the case.
That strange cipher that I had found secreted in the dead man'swaistcoat occurred to me, and I longed to be in possession of its key.I knew a man who often amused himself in deciphering such things, andcounted himself something of an expert in such matters, but I had notyet had time to submit it to him and obtain his opinion.
As we continued our way she expressed a hope that the man Redway wouldnot make investigations in her wardrobe during her absence.
"He may bribe Weston, you know," she suggested in an apprehensive tone."And if he found that his cast corresponded with my foot, the resultwould surely be fatal. I could not live to face it, Willoughby. Howcould I?"
"Don't let us anticipate such a thing. Redway will not be able to enterthe Hall without some very good excuse, that's very certain. Up to thepresent only two persons are aware that you were out in the Park allnight--the man whom I afterwards found with the Frenchwoman, andmyself."
"Ah! yes, thanks to you I succeeded in returning home as though I hadonly been out for an early walk. The manner in which you accomplishedit was most ingenious. It has freed me from suspicion. Yet in thefootmarks has arisen another and much more serious matter."
"The boots you must leave to me. I will get rid of them, never fear," Iassured her; and she pressed the gloved hand I held, as though toconfirm her trust in me.
Yet was I acting as accessory to a foul and dastardly crime. A man,unarmed and unsuspecting, had been cruelly and secretly done to death,and I, because I loved her, was seeking by all means in my power tothrow the police off the scent and dispel even those grave suspicionsthat were so strongly increasing in my own mind daily, nay hourly.
Walking at her side I tried to argue with myself. But I was too loyalto her. That face drawn and haggard, the paleness of which even herveil failed to hide, was the countenance of a woman whose heart was tornwith conflicting emotions--one whose enemies had triumphed, leaving herfriendless, crushed--and guilty before the face of the world.
We went on, past the smithy, into Stanion village, an old-world placewith its grey church-spire the most prominent figure in the landscape.The sun was setting, and our long shadows lay in front of us upon thedusty highway.
Young Sampson, the squire of Ashton, over near Oundle, whirled past usin his ten-horse Panhard, enveloping us in a cloud of dust, passingbefore he became aware of who we were. Then we turned into the rectory,where in the cool little drawing-room Lolita had a brief conversationwith the worthy rector's wife concerning a forthcoming sale of work.Oh! those everlasting jumble sales and sales of work.
As she sat there, her veil raised, coolly discussing such things asstalls, stall-holders, fancy needlework and church expenses, she smiledsweetly and certainly did not in the least present the woeful picturethat she had done as we passed through the Chase. They even discussedthe tragic discovery in the park. With the well-bred woman's naturaltact she could control her outward appearance marvellously. The wife ofthe estimable rector would certainly never have dreamed the subject ofour conversation a quarter of an hour before. They strolled across thetennis lawn together, and her neat figure and graceful swinging carriagewas surely not that of a woman suspected of a heartless and brutalassassination.
Yet when I argued coldly and methodically with myself; when Irecollected her admission, and her eager anxiety to get rid of thoseboots with the small high heels, I could not disguise from myself thehard fact that if she were not the actual assassin she was, at any rate,an accessory.
There had been some strong motive why that young man should die. Thatwas plain, and without the slightest shadow of doubt.
I strolled beside the pair in the garden until my love took leave of herhostess, and then we walked home in the calm golden glow of the sundown.
Before the dressing-bell rang I surreptitiously carried my oldsuit-case, empty, up to her room, and half-an-hour later fetched itdown. It was packed full of all her French boots, and having locked itsecurely I tied upon it an address-label inscribed to myself to be leftat St Pancras cloak-room "till called for." Then I rang for a servant,and dispatched it to Kettering station.
The blazing August days went slowly by. The body of the nameless victimhad been laid in its grave in Sibberton churchyard, and the inquiriesconducted by the obsequious Redway resulted in nothing. As was to beexpected, he and his assistants haunted the village continually,endeavouring to gather all they could, but fortunately no suspicion wascast upon the sweet woman whom I loved. An active search was made forthe boots with the Louis XV heels, in which Pink, the doctor, joined,but it never once occurred to them that they had belonged to Lolita.Or, if it did, the theory had no doubt been dismissed as a wild andunfounded one.
Eager to escape from the place which was undoubtedly so full of tragicmemory, Lolita, in the early days of September, went up to Strathpefferto stay with her aunt, Lady Clayton, as was her habit each year.
On the morning just before she left, however, she came to my room readydressed for her departure, and again, for the first time since our walkto Stanion, referred to the tragedy.
"Recollect, Willoughby, I am now entirely in your hands," she said,standing at the window with her eyes fixed aimlessly across the broadlevel park. "I cannot bear to remain here now, for I feel every momentthat I am being watched, suspected--that one day that awful personRedway will enter my room with--perhaps a warrant for my arrest."
"There is no evidence," I pointed out, first ascertaining that therewere no eavesdroppers in the corridor outside. "We have been able toefface everything. The police are utterly puzzled."
"Thanks to you," she said, turning her great blue eyes sweetly upon me.Surely she did not at the moment present t
he appearance of a murderess,and yet the circumstances all pointed to one fact--that there was amotive in the death of that young man who had remained unidentified."You told me the other day," she went on, "that the necklet had beenpawned. My connexion with the poor young fellow may be establishedthrough that. You see I do not conceal my fears from you, Willoughby--my only friend," she added.
"You need fear nothing in that direction," I responded. "I purchasedthe necklet, and I have it at this moment safely at home."
"You have!" she cried, a great weight lifted from her mind. "Ah! youseem to have left nothing undone to secure my safety."
"For the reason I explained to you on the night of the unfortunateaffair," I responded, taking her small soft hand in mine and raising
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