She sat at the table, stunned. There was in this story a hideous probability. Her first inclination was to consult Beale, but instantly she saw that if what the doctor had said was true such a course would be fatal.
"How do I know you are speaking the truth?" she asked.
"You cannot know until you have seen your father," he said. "It is a very simple matter."
He took from his pocket an envelope and laid it before her.
"Here is the address--64 Hope Street. I advise you to commit it to memory and tear it up. After all, what possible interest could I have in your going to Liverpool, or anywhere else for the matter of that?"
She was walking back to her room to put on her coat when he called her back.
"There's no reason in the world why you should not write to Beale to tell him where you have gone," he said. "You can leave a note with me and I will deliver it."
She hesitated again, sat down at her desk and scribbled the few lines which Beale had found. Then she twisted round in her chair in perplexity.
"I don't understand it all," she said. "If Mr. Beale is on the track of my father, surely he will understand from this letter that I have gone to meet him."
"Let me see what you have written," said van Heerden coolly, and looked over her shoulder. "Yes, that's enough," he said.
"Quite enough. You see, my idea was that you should write sufficient to put him off the track."
"I don't understand you--there's somebody in the passage," she said suddenly, and was walking to the door leading to the hall when he intercepted her.
"Miss Cresswell, I think you will understand me when I tell you that your father is dead, that the story I have told you about Beale being on his track is quite untrue, and that it is necessary for a purpose which I will not disclose to you that you should be my wife."
She sprang back out of his reach, white as death. Instinctively she realized that she was in some terrible danger, and the knowledge turned her cold.
"Your wife?" she repeated. "I think you must be mad, doctor."
"On the contrary, I am perfectly sane. I would have asked you before, but I knew that you would refuse me. Had our friend Beale not interfered, the course of true love might have run a little more smoothly than it has. Now I am going to speak plainly to you, Miss Cresswell. It is necessary that I should marry you, and if you agree I shall take you away and place you in safe keeping. I will marry you at the registrar's office and part from you the moment the ceremony is completed. I will agree to allow you a thousand a year and I will promise that I will not interfere with you or in any way seek your society."