She burst into a fit of hysterical laughter.
"No," he answered, "I am not Moonlight, and I am not lying to you now. It is true this is Moonlight's lair. And are you surprised that the police haven't found him? But I am not Moonlight."
"Then who is Moonlight?" she said.
"Ah," he answered, "it would surprise you to know that. Perhaps you may find out later."
"Are you not afraid that I shall betray you?" she said.
"No. I have told you that I don't intend to let you leave this place till you go with me to the nearest township to be married. You are not likely to betray your husband. Besides, I don't mean to give you the chance. I have made all my arrangements, and when I leave this it will be for good. The Moonlight drama is played out. As soon as you are Mrs. Dominic Trant, we sail for Europe."
"Where are Lady Waveryng's diamonds?" she asked suddenly.
"Do you think I am likely to tell you that?" he said. "Let us drop unpleasant subjects, Elsie. You know the worst that is to be known. We have never killed anybody, and we have gone in for things on a generous scale. You can't call us petty ruffians. In fact I have heard you express admiration for Moonlight."
Again the girl was seized with hysterical laughter. Her mind went back to various episodes, seizing the threads brokenly. "Oh! Oh!" she gasped. "And you pretended to condole with Lord Waveryng—and when you went away from the corroboree all that story about the butcher waiting!—Oh! and at the Races—and I remember how you joked at Moonlight and Captain Macpherson being fellow guests, and you have been pretending to help Captain Macpherson. And then at Goondi—the gold-escort—at the election. Oh!" the girl's eyes dilated, and she suddenly stopped. She remembered the tall cloaked figure, the gleaming hilt of the revolver, the wild words, the flaming eyes. And then all came clear to her.
