"Yes," replied the detective. "I had my suspicions, but what could I do? A man can travel under any name he likes; we may suspect that he is doing so for some improper purpose, but unless he does something which justifies our suspicions, I am afraid we could not make out a case. Mr. Clarke, or Dillington, behaved himself properly. I was not asked to watch him. I could not suppose that he—he—
"Was running away with a woman’s husband," I said, wearily. Fate seemed to be against me. I felt it was useless to struggle.
"Exactly," he assented, looking at me keenly.
"I am much obliged to you for having told me all that you know," I said, in the same tired way. He bowed, and I went out to my carriage. I told the driver to take me to the Guion line dock.
It was not much use, though I thought I might as well drain my cup of misery to the dregs. I saw it all. Arthur had told Captain Dillington of our proposed trip to America. I remembered the day when I had gone to his room and found the door locked. I called to mind the sudden shutting of the window which I had unmistakably
