The Sign of Silence Part 18

"That--that he regretted the acquaintances.h.i.+p."

"Regretted? Why?"

The woman shrugged her shoulders. All along she had been cognisant of the tragedy, yet with her innate cleverness she had not admitted her knowledge.

"A man often regrets his friends.h.i.+p with a woman," she said, with a mysterious air.

"What!" I cried fiercely. "Do you make an insinuation that----"

"My dear Mr. Royle," she laughed, "I make no insinuation. It was you who have endeavoured to compel me to condemn her as Digby's enemy. You yourself suggested it!"

"But you have told me that his fiercest and most bitter enemy was a woman!"

"Certainly. But I have not told you that woman's name, nor do I intend to break my vow of secrecy to Digby--fugitive that he may be at this moment.

Yet, depend upon it, he will return and crush his enemies in the dust."

"I hope he will," was my fervent reply. "Yet I love Phrida Shand, and upon her there rests a terrible cloud of suspicion."

She was silent for a moment, still standing beneath the lamp, gazing at me with those big, dark eyes.

At last she said:

"The way out is quite easy."

"How?"

"If you have any regard for your future put your love aside," was her hard response.

"You hate her!" I said, knitting my brows, yet recollecting the proof I had secured of her presence in Digby's flat.

"Yes," was her prompt response. "I hate her--I have cause to hate her!"

"What cause?"

"That is my own affair, Mr. Royle--my own secret. Find Digby, and he will, no doubt, tell you the truth."

"The truth concerning Phrida?"

"Yes."

"But he knew I was engaged to her! Why did he not speak?"

"And expose her secret?" she asked. "Would he have acted as a gentleman had he done so? Does a man so lightly betray a woman's honour?"

"A woman's honour!" I gasped, staring at her, staggered as though she had struck me a blow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean nothing," was her cold reply. "Take it as you may, Mr. Royle, only be warned."

"But if Digby knew that she was worthless, he would surely have made some remark to arouse my suspicion?" I exclaimed.

"Why should he?" she queried. "A true gentleman does not usually expose a woman's secret."

I saw her point, and my heart sank within me. Were these scandalous allegations of hers based upon truth, or was she actuated by ill-feeling, perhaps, indeed, of jealousy?

We walked on again slowly until we reached St. James's Palace, and pa.s.sed out into the end of Pall Mall, where it joined St. James's Street. Yet her att.i.tude was one of complete mystery. I was uncertain whether the admission she had so unconsciously made regarding Phrida--that she was Digby's worst enemy--was the actual truth or not.

One thing was plain. This Mrs. Petre was a clever, far-seeing woman of the world, who had with great ingenuity held from me her knowledge of the crime.

A problem was, therefore, presented to me. By what means could she be aware of it? First, she had expected to meet Digby that evening; secondly, the letter I had brought was written before the a.s.sa.s.sination of the unknown girl.

How could she have obtained knowledge of the affair if it were not premeditated and hinted at in the letter I had so faithfully delivered?

Half way up St. James's Street my companion suddenly exclaimed:

"I must be going! Would you please hail me a taxi, Mr. Royle?"

"I will--when you have answered my question," I said, with great politeness.

"I have already replied to it," was her response. "You love Phrida Shand, but if you have any self-respect, any regard for your future, break off Whatever infatuation she has exercised over you. If you are Digby's friend, you will be a man, and act as such!"

"I really don't follow you," I said, bewildered.

"Perhaps not. But surely my words are plain enough!"

"Is she the enemy of Digby, of whom you have spoken?"

"That question I am not permitted to answer."

I was silent a few seconds. Then I asked earnestly:

"Tell me openly and frankly, Mrs. Petre. Is she the person you suspect of having committed the crime?"

She gave vent to a short dry laugh.

"Really, Mr. Royle," she exclaimed, "you put to me the most difficult riddles. How can I possibly suspect anyone of a crime of which I know nothing, and of which even the papers appear to be in ignorance?"

"But you are not in ignorance," I said. "How, pray, did you learn that a tragedy had occurred?"

"Ah!" she laughed. "That is my secret. You were very careful not to tell me the true cause of poor Digby's flight. Yes, Mr. Royle, I congratulate you upon your ingenuity in protecting the honour of your friend. Rest a.s.sured he will not forget the great services you have already rendered him."

"I look for no reward. He was my friend," was my reply.

"Then, if he was your friend and you are still his, heed my warning concerning Phrida Shand."

"But tell me what you know?" I cried, clutching her arm as we walked together. "You don't understand that you are making allegations--terrible allegations--against the woman I love dearest in all the world. You have made an a.s.sertion, and I demand that you shall substantiate it," I added in frantic anxiety.

She shook off my hand angrily, declaring that nothing more need be said, and adding that if I refused to heed her, then the peril would be mine.

"But you shall not leave me until you have furnished me with proof of these perfidious actions of my love!" I declared vehemently.