"That is the remarkable part of it: they were perfect strangers to each other."
"But she must have had some motive."
"_There_ is the foundation of my hope for Miles. Miss Jethro declared, when I wrote and put the question to her, that the one motive by which she was actuated was the motive of mercy. I don't believe her. To my mind, it is in the last degree improbable that she would consent to protect a stranger from discovery, who owned to her (as my brother did) that he was a fugitive suspected of murder. She knows something, I am firmly convinced, of that dreadful event at Zeeland--and she has some reason for keeping it secret. Have you any influence over her?"
"Tell me where I can find her."
"I can't tell you. She has removed from the address at which my brother saw her last. He has made every possible inquiry--without result."
As she replied in those discouraging terms, the curtains which divided Mrs. Delvin's bedroom from her sitting-room were drawn aside. An elderly woman-servant approached her mistress's couch.
"Mr. Mirabel is awake, ma'am. He is very low; I can hardly feel his pulse. Shall I give him some more brandy?"
Mrs. Delvin held out her hand to Emily. "Come to me to-morrow morning," she said--and signed to the servant to wheel her couch into the next room. As the curtain closed over them, Emily heard Mirabel's voice. "Where am I?" he said faintly. "Is it all a dream?"