For the rest she was going straight to the man who had kept her so long in such unnecessary ignorance.
Why had he not told her about Australia, at all events?
What conceivable harm could that have done?
It would have been the strongest possible bond between them.

But Rachel went further as she thought more.

Why not have told her frankly that he had known Alexander Minchin years before she did herself?
It could have made no difference after Alexander Minchin's death; then why had be kept the fact so jealously to himself?
And the dead man's painted eyes answered "Why ?" with the bold and mocking stare his wife could not forget, a stare which at that moment assumed a new and sinister significance in her sight.
Rachel looked upward through the window, which was barred, and almost totally eclipsed by shrubs; but a clout of sky was just visible under the architrave.

It was a very gray sky; gray also was Rachel's face in the sudden grip of horror and surmise.

Then a ragged edge of cloud caught golden fire, a glimmer found its way into the dust and dirt of the secret chamber, and Rachel relaxed with a slight smile but an exceedingly decided shake of the head.