diately after that I went abroad. After some weeks a letter from him reached me, saying he had concluded his business and given the solicitors all the assistance in his power. He thanked me very nicely for what he called all my kindness, and said goodbye. There was nothing in it about his plans for the future, and I thought it particularly strange that he said not a word about my husband's death. I didn't answer. Knowing what I knew, I couldn't. In those days I shuddered whenever I thought of that masquerade in the night. I never wanted to see or hear of him again.'
'Then you don't know what has become of him?'
'No, but I dare say Uncle Burton–Mr. Cupples, you know–could tell you. Some time ago he told me that he had met Mr Marlowe in London, and had some talk with him. I changed the conversation.' She paused and smiled with a trace of mischief. 'I rather wonder what you supposed had happened to Mr Marlowe after you withdrew from the scene of the drama that you had put together so much to your satisfaction.'
