"No," he said, with a little bitter smile. "I have never forgotten."
She suddenly caught hold of his shoulders and drew him down towards her.
"Nigel, don't you understand. I must leave England to-night. I must go somewhere into hiding, a long, long way off. I killed him, Nigel. They will say that it was murder. But if only you will come I do not care."
He shook her hands off almost roughly. He stood away from her. She listened with dumb fear in her eyes.
"Listen, Annabel," he said hoarsely. "We played at love-making in Paris. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game--both of us. Other things came. We went our ways. There was no broken faith--not even any question of anything of the sort. I met you here as Lady Ferringhall. We have played at a little mild love-making again. It has been only the sort of nonsense which passes lightly enough between half the men and women in London. You shall know the truth. I do not love you. I have never loved you. I call myself a man of the world, a man of many experiences, but I never knew what love meant--until I met your sister."
"I do," he answered. "I always shall. Now if you are ready to go with me, I too am ready. We will go to Ostend by the early morning boat and choose a hiding place from there. I will marry you when Sir John gets his divorce, and I will do all I can to keep you out of harm. But you had better know the truth to start with. I will do all this not because I love you, but--because you are Anna's sister."
"You are magnificent," she said, "but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. It cuts. Will you let your servant call me a hansom," she continued, opening the door before he could reach her side. "I had no idea that it was so abominably late."
He scarcely saw her face again. She pulled her veil down, and he knew that silence was best.
"Where to?" he asked, as the hansom drove up.
"Home, of course," she answered. "Eight, Cavendish Square."
David Courtlaw crossed the floor of the dingy little sitting-room with outstretched hands.
"You cannot say that you did not expect me," he answered. "I got Sydney's telegram at ten o'clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord."