"What do you mean, Mr. Edermont?"
She had risen to her feet, and was standing over him with flushed face and indignant eyes. To force his speech she gripped the shoulder of the man until he winced with pain.
"You have said something against me," she continued, giving him a slight shake.
"I have been saying nothing against you. I am truly sorry for you, Dora."
"Sorry for me, Mr. Edermont? Why?"
"Because of your parents," said her guardian slowly.
Dora stepped back. Since she had been brought by Edermont to the Red House, a year-old babe, he had never mentioned the name of her parents. All questions she had put to him had been put aside. That her father and mother were dead, that she inherited five hundred a year, and that Mr. Edermont was her guardian until she reached the age of twenty-one--these facts were known to her; beyond them, nothing. Now it would seem that some mystery was connected with the dead, and that Mr. Edermont was about to divulge it.
"What did my parents do that you should be sorry for me?" she asked pointedly.
"I shall never tell you what they did, Dora. I have hinted too much already. It is sufficient for you to know that they sinned, and that their sin will be visited on you."
"How dare you speak to me like this!" cried Dora, clenching her hands; "what right have you to terrify me with vague hints? I demand an explanation!"
"You will never obtain one--from me," said Edermont in a quavering voice; "and if you are wise you will seek one nowhere else."
"I shall ask Allen."
"He is bound by a promise to me not to tell you."
"Then, I shall question Lady Burville."
Edermont rose with a bound, and gripped her arm with a strength of which she had not thought him capable.
"Girl," he cried earnestly, "do not go near that woman! She is an evil woman--one who has brought harm in the past, and will bring harm in the future. When I saw her in church it was no wonder that I turned faint. She has hunted me down; and she brings trouble in her train. Leave me to fight my own battles, Dora, and come not into the fray. If you cross her path she will show you such mercy as she has shown me. I implore you to say nothing, to think nothing. If you disobey me I cannot save you; you must be your own salvation."
Throughout this strange speech he kept his eyes fixed upon her face. When it was ended he dropped her arm and turned away.
"Leave me now," he said faintly; "I--I am not myself."
The poor creature seemed so exhausted that it would have been absolute cruelty to have questioned him further, and, anxious as Dora was to do so, she was moved from sheer pity to spare him. Without a word she left the room, closing the door after her, and went slowly downstairs to the hall. Here she paused and considered.
"I knew that some evil was coming," she thought, with a chill of fear, "and my premonition has come to pass. According to that coward upstairs, there is danger and evil on all sides. He has separated me from Allen; he warns me against Lady Burville; yet he refuses to enlighten my ignorance, and warns me against going to others. But I must know; I must learn what it is that threatens the future happiness of Allen and myself. I can't sit down with folded arms and await the bolt from the blue. I must know, I must consider, I must act."
Against two people Edermont had warned her, but he had omitted to specify a third. Out on the lawn, under the cedars, Dora saw the black figure of Joad. It would appear from his parting words to his patron that he knew what had been told to Allen. Dora was on the point of crossing to him, and wringing, if possible, the truth from his reluctant lips, but her instinctive repulsion to the man prevented her from taking him into her confidence. If she wanted help, she must rely on herself or upon Allen. He was her affianced lover, and she felt that she could trust him. But if his lips were sealed by the promise given to Edermont, why----
"But he will tell me--he must tell me," she said, with an angry stamp. "I shall go into Canterbury at once." She glanced at the old clock in the hall, which chimed half-past two. "I shall go at once," repeated Dora, and went for her bicycle.
At the gate she found Joad, with the key in his hand. He cast a sidelong look at her bicycle, and explained his presence on the spot.
"I quite forgot to lock the gate, Miss Dora," he said, in his deep tones; "it was fortunate for Dr. Scott that I did not, and unfortunate for you."
"Why was it unfortunate for me, Mr. Joad?" she asked coldly.
"Because, if Dr. Scott had not been able to get out, he would have been forced to remain; and if he had remained," said Joad, with another glance at the machine, "he might have saved you a journey to Canterbury."
"How do you know that I am going to Canterbury?"
"I guessed it. You wish to obtain from Scott the explanation which Julian refuses. As I said, it was unlucky Scott found this gate unlocked, else he might have made his explanation here."
"You are a shrewd observer, Mr. Joad," was Dora's reply; "and I admit that you are right. I am going to see Dr. Scott, as you say."
"It is a hot day, and a long journey. You will experience discomfort."
"Probably I shall," said Dora, with a significant look. "Suppose you save me the journey, Mr. Joad, and explain this mystery yourself?"
"To what mystery are you alluding, young lady?" asked Joad with childlike blandness.
"To the mystery of Allen's sudden departure. You know the reason for it. I heard you say so myself to Edermont."
"Mr. Edermont's secrets are not my secrets, and I do not betray my friends."
"You are wonderfully scrupulous," said Miss Carew scornfully. "Well, I won't ask you to play the part of a traitor. Allen will tell me what I want to know."
"I am afraid Allen will do no such thing, Miss Dora."
"I have a right to know what bar there is to my marriage."
"I agree with you there," replied Joad, putting the key in the lock of the gate. "All the same, Dr. Scott will keep his own counsel. But I'll tell you one thing, Miss Dora--Julian is right: you will never marry Allen Scott."
"Who will stop the marriage?" asked Dora indignantly.
"Scott himself. He will ask you to break the engagement."
Dora looked at Joad with ineffable contempt, and wheeled the bicycle out on the dusty road.
"I will never believe that until I hear it from his own lips," she said. And the next moment she was spinning at full speed towards Canterbury.
Joad looked after her with a grim smile, and locked the gates with the greatest deliberation. Then he went up to the house, swinging the key on his finger and talking aloud.
"This," said Joad, chuckling, "is the beginning of the end."
CHAPTER IV.
MORE MYSTERIES.
If Dora was disappointed at failing to obtain explanations at Chillum, she was still more so at Canterbury. She ran the five miles under thirty minutes, and made sure she would be able to overtake Allen before he could escape her. There was a vague idea in her mind that, owing to what had been told him by Edermont--whatever it might be--he did not wish to submit himself to her questioning. This idea was confirmed by the discovery she made on reaching the tidy green-doored house near the Cathedral. Dr. Scott was not at home.
"And to tell the truth, miss," said Mrs. Tice, a large, ample, motherly person, who had been Allen's nurse and was now his housekeeper, "the doctor has gone to London."
"To London?" gasped Dora blankly, "and without letting