"You betray yourself by your own words.
You have fallen in love with her, I really believe, Mr.Gregg.If she knew, she'd be most gratified--or at least, she ought to be." At which I smiled, preferring that she should adopt that theory in preference to any other.
She spoke frankly, as a pure honest girl would speak.

She was not jealous, but she nevertheless resented--as women do resent such things--that I should fall in love with a friend's photograph.
There was a mystery surrounding that torn picture; of that I was absolutely certain.

The remembrance of that memorable evening when I had dined on board the _Lola_ arose vividly before me.

Why had the girl's portrait been so ruthlessly destroyed and the frame turned with its face to the wall?
There was some reason--some distinct and serious motive in it.

Had Muriel told me the truth, I wondered, or was she merely seeking to shield the suspected man who was her lover?
Hour by hour the mystery surrounding the Leithcourts became more inscrutable, more intensely absorbing.