“I had not thought as to what I should say, what excuse I should give in this case.  But almost instantly my mind was made up.  About the most conspicuous thing in the room was a squat Japanese idol—­a fat, grinning, hideous thing which sat upon a sort of pedestal near the door.  So I laid my hand in it.

“‘I was told of this,’ said I, examining the idol minutely, ’and came in to see it.’

“‘Ah, yes,’ said he.  But it was plain enough that he did not believe me.

“I inquired the price of the figure.  He named a high one; and I believe I astonished him by purchasing it without another word.  The idol was delivered late that afternoon.  I had it unpacked at once and placed where Mr. Morris could not fail to see it when he called.”

“A clever plan,” commented Ashton-Kirk, admiringly.

“He saw it when he entered the room and greeted me.  He was smiling; and the smile froze on his lips, his face went pale, and he turned a look upon me that filled me with fear, it was so wan and startled.

“I had intended telling him the full truth if my ruse succeeded.  But after that look I could not.  I convinced him by a nonchalant manner and story, that I had come by the idol accidentally.  At least I think I convinced him, though I noticed his watching me steadily from under very level brows more than once during the evening.  But if he had any suspicions that I was deceiving him, he did not put them into words.”

Here Miss Vale paused for a moment.  Then she resumed: 

“I tried, in various ways, to gain a knowledge of the relationship between my fiance and this sneering shopkeeper; but they were all ineffectual.  Mr. Ashton-Kirk, this occurred fully three months ago, and the situation remains the same as it was upon that night.”

Then with a suddenness that startled the young man she lifted two trembling hands to her face and began to sob gaspingly.  When she took the hands away there were no signs of tears, but her beautiful face was drawn with pain and her voice shook as she said: 

“I don’t think I can stand it much longer.  I beg of you not to think lightly of my story; for the thing that stands between Allan Morris and myself is deadly.  As I watch him I can see that his heart is breaking; his health is failing, there is a look of fear in his eyes.”  She reached forward and her hand rested upon the sleeve of Ashton-Kirk.  “He is at the mercy of this mocking monster that I have described to you.  It is killing him, and through him it is killing me.  Help me, please.”

Ashton-Kirk smiled reassuringly.

“As far as I can see,” said he, “the case is a simple one.  However, it may turn out the reverse.  But in either event I can promise you a swift and energetic attempt to set the matter right.”

“Thank you!” She stood up.  “And you will begin to-day?”

“At once!”

“You are kind.”  She held out her hand; he took it.  “Thank you, again.”