He took his ticket, and, having some minutes to wait, moved towards the bookstall.  By his side, as he scanned the papers, stood a lady who had just made a purchase; the salesman seemed to have handed her insufficient change, for she said to him, in a clear, business-like voice, ‘It was half-a-crown that I gave you.’

At the sound of these words, Hugh turned sharply and looked at the speaker.  She was a woman of thirty-five, solidly built, well dressed without display of fashion; the upper part of her face was hidden by a grey veil, through which her eyes shone.  Intent on recovering her money, she did not notice that the man beside her was looking and listening with the utmost keenness; nor, on turning away at length, was she aware that Hugh followed.  He pursued her, at a yard’s distance, down the platform, and into the covered passage which leads to another part of the station.  Here, perhaps because the footstep behind her sounded distinctly, she gave a backward glance, and her veiled eyes met Carnaby’s.  At once he stepped to her side.  ’I don’t think I can be mistaken,’ were his low, cautiously-spoken words, whilst he gazed into her face with stern fixedness.  ‘You remember me, Mrs. Maskell, no doubt.’

‘I do not, sir.  You certainly are mistaken.’

She replied in a voice which so admirably counterfeited a French accent that Hugh could not but smile, even whilst setting his teeth in anger at her impudence.

’Oh! that settles it.  As you have two tongues, you naturally have two names —­ probably more.  I happened to be standing by you at the bookstall a moment ago.  It’s a great bore; I was just starting on a journey; but I must trouble you to come with me to the nearest police station.  You have too much sense to make any fuss about it.’

The woman glanced this way and that.  Two or three people were hurrying through the passage, but they perceived nothing unusual.

‘You have a choice,’ said Carnaby, ’between my companionship and that of the policeman.  Make up your mind.’

‘I don’t think you will go so far as that, Mr. Carnaby,’ said the other, with self-possession and in her natural voice.

‘Why not?’

’Because I can tell you something that will interest you very much —­ something that nobody else can.’

‘What do you mean?’ he asked roughly.

‘It refers to your wife; that’s all I need say just now.’

‘You are lying.’

‘As you please.  Let us go.’

She moved on with unhurried step, and turned towards the nearest cab-rank.  Pausing within sight of the vehicles, she looked again at her companion.

’Would you rather have a little quiet talk with me in a four-wheeler, or drive straight to ——?’

Hugh’s brain was in commotion.  The hint of secrets concerning his wife had not its full effect in the moment of utterance; it sounded the common artifice of a criminal.  But Mrs. Maskell’s cool audacity gave significance to her words; the two minutes’ walk had made Hugh as much afraid of her as she could be of him.  He stared at her, beset with horrible doubts.