The Seven Secrets by William Le Queux

Author:William Le Queux [Queux, William Le]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9788027219759
Publisher: Musaicum Press
Published: 2017-09-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVIII

WORDS OF THE DEAD

Table of Contents

Justice is always vigilant — it stops not to weigh causes or motives, but overtakes the criminal, no matter whether his deeds be the suggestion of malice or the consequence of provoked revenge. I was all eagerness to face the pair in the full light and demand an explanation, yet I hesitated, fearing lest precipitation might prevent me gaining knowledge of the truth.

That they had no inclination to walk further was evident, for they still stood there in conversation, facing each other and speaking earnestly. I listened attentively to every word, my heart thumping so loudly that I wondered they did not hear its excited pulsations.

“You’ve seen nothing of Sir Bernard?” she was saying.

“Sir Bernard!” he echoed. “Why, of course not. To him I am dead and buried, just as I am to the rest of the world. My executors have proved my will at Somerset House, and very soon you will receive its benefits. To meet the old doctor would be to reveal the whole thing.”

“It is all so strange,” she said with a low sigh, “that sometimes, when I am alone, I can’t believe it to be true. We have deceived the world so completely.”

“Of course. That was my intention.”

“But could it not have been done without the sacrifice of that man’s life?” she queried. “Remember! The crime of murder was committed.”

“You are only dreaming!” he replied, in a hard voice. “A mystery was necessary for our success.”

“And it is a mystery which has entirely baffled the police in every particular.”

“As I intended it should. I laid my plans with care, so that there should be no hitch or point by which Scotland Yard could obtain a clue.”

“But our future life?” she murmured. “When may I return again to you? At present I am compelled to feign mourning, and present a perfect picture of interesting widowhood; but — but I hate this playing at death.”

“Have patience, dear,” he urged in a sympathetic tone. “For the moment we must remain entirely apart, holding no communication with each other save in secret, on the first and fifteenth day of every month as we arranged. As soon as I find myself in a position of safety we will disappear together, and you will leave the world wondering at the second mystery following upon the first.”

“In how long a time do you anticipate?” she asked, looking earnestly into his eyes.

“A few months at most,” was his answer. “If it were possible you should return to me at once; but you know how strange and romantic is my life, compelled to disguise my personality, and for ever moving from place to place, like the Wandering Jew. To return to me at present is quite impossible. Besides — you are in the hands of the executors; and before long must be in evidence in order to receive my money.”

“Money is useless to me without happiness,” she declared, in a voice of complaint. “My position at present is one of constant dread.

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