“I have heard about you,” she said. “He mentioned you once—before we went to that Sussex cottage with Mr. Crawley. They were going to bring another lady, and I was to look after her, but he—”
“Who is ‘he’?” asked Mr. Mann.
“My husband,” said the girl.
“How long have you been married?” demanded the little man.
“I ran away with him a long time ago,” she said. “It has been an awful life; it was Mr. Crawley’s idea. He told me that if I married Mr. Merrill he would take me to see my mother and Jasper. But he was so cruel—”
She shuddered again.
“We’ve been living in furnished houses all over the country, and I have been alone most of the time, and he would not let me go out by myself or do anything.”
She spoke in a subdued, monotonous tone that betrayed the nearness of a bad, nervous breakdown.
“What does your husband call himself?”
“Why, Frank Merrill,” said the girl in astonishment; “that’s his name. Mr. Crawley always told me his name was Merrill. Isn’t it?”
Mr. Mann shook his head.
“My poor girl,” he said sympathetically, “I am afraid you have been grossly deceived. The man you married as Merrill is an impostor.”
“An impostor?” she faltered.
Mr. Mann nodded.
“He has taken a good man’s name, and I am afraid has committed abominable crimes in that man’s name,” said the investigator gently. “I hope we shall be able to rid you and the world of a great villain.”
Still she stared uncomprehendingly.
“He has always been a liar,” she said slowly. “He lied naturally and acted things so well that you believed him. He told me things which I know aren’t true. He told me my brother was dead, but I saw his name in the paper the other day, and that is why I came to you. Do you know Jasper?”
She was as naive and as unsophisticated as a schoolgirl, and it made the little man’s heart ache to hear the plaintive monotony of tone and see the trembling lip.
“I promise you that you will meet your brother,” he said.
“I have run away from Frank,” she said suddenly. “Isn’t that a wicked thing to do? I could not stand it. He struck me again yesterday, and he pretends to be a gentleman. My mother used to say that no gentleman ever treats a woman badly, but Frank does.”
“Nobody shall treat you badly any more,” said Mr. Mann.
“I hate him!” she went on with sudden vehemence. “He sneers and says he’s going to get another wife, and—oh!”
He saw her hands go up to her face, and saw her staring eyes turn to the door in affright.
Frank Merrill stood in the doorway, and looked at her without recognition.
“I am sorry,” he said. “You have a visitor?”
“Come in,” said Mr. Mann. “I am awfully glad you called.”
The girl had risen to her feet, and was shrinking back to the wall.
“Do you know this lady?”
Frank looked at her keenly.
“Why, yes, that’s Sergeant Smith’s daughter,” he said, and he smiled. “Where on earth have you been?”
“Don’t touch me!” she breathed, and put her hands before her, warding him off.
He looked at her in astonishment, and from her to Mann. Then he looked back at the girl, his brow wrinkled in perplexity.
“This girl,” said Mr. Mann, “thinks she is your wife.”
“My wife?” said Frank, and looked again at her.
“Is this a bad joke or something—do you say that I am your husband?” he asked.
She did not speak, but nodded slowly.
He sat down in a chair and whistled.
“This rather complicates matters,” he said blankly, “but perhaps you can explain?”
“I only know what the girl has told me,” said Mr. Mann, shaking his head. “I am afraid there is a terrible mistake here.”
Frank turned to the girl.
“But did your husband look like me?”
She nodded.
“And did he call himself Frank Merrill?”
Again she nodded.
“Where is he now?”
She nodded, this time at him.
“But, great heavens,” said Frank, with a gesture of despair, “you do not suggest that I am the man?”
“You are the man,” said the girl.
Again Frank looked appealingly at his friend, and Saul Arthur Mann saw dismay and laughter in his eyes.
“I don’t know what I can do,” he said. “Perhaps if you left me alone with her for a minute—”
“Don’t! Don’t!” she breathed. “Don’t leave me alone with him. Stay here.”
“And where have you come from now?” asked Frank.
“From the house where you took me. You struck me yesterday,” she went on inconsequently.
Frank laughed.
“I am not only married, but I am a wife beater apparently,” he said desperately. “Now what can I do? I think the best thing that can be done is for this lady to tell us where she lives and I will take her back and confront her husband.”
“I won’t go with you!” cried the girl. “I won’t! I won’t! You said you’d look after me, Mr. Mann. You promised.”
The little investigator saw that she was distraught to a point where a collapse was imminent.
“This gentleman will look after you also,” he said encouragingly. “He is as anxious to save you from your husband as anybody.”
“I will not go,” she cried, “If that man touches me,” and she pointed to Frank, “I’ll scream.”
Again came the tap at the door, and Frank looked round.
“More visitors?” he asked.
“It is all right,” said Saul Arthur Mann. “There’s a lady and a gentleman to see me, isn’t there?” he asked the commissionaire. “Show them in.”
May came first, saw the little tableau, and stopped, knowing instinctively all that it portended. Jasper followed her.
The girl, who had been watching Frank, shifted her eyes for a moment to the visitors, and at sight of Jasper flung across the room. In an instant
