the time had come. leona lalage knew it as well as if she had seen the writing on the wall. this man had come for her; she would have no time to make her peace with the world. when he had his say he would drive his knife into her heart, and there would be an end of it.

"i--i thought you were in prison," she gasped.

"oh, then you knew that i was in england?" rené replied. "i have been in prison for some time, otherwise you would have done less mischief. woman, what has become of my brother--your husband?"

she did not reply for a moment. her courage was coming back to her, as it always did when the stress of danger was great. hard-pushed and beaten down as she was, she did not wish to die. she had been crushed flat to earth before, and yet she had recovered.

if she could only gain time! if she could only manage to throw dust in the eyes of this man! she would ask no questions, because that would be only by way of making admissions. she must feel her way in the dark.

and there was no avenue of escape whatever. she was alone with this man in a dark, deserted house. she had come there for a few needed trifles that she had left behind. nobody had seen either of them enter. why, it was a very premium upon murder and the lust for revenge!

"where is my brother?" rené repeated doggedly.

"you know very well where your brother is," leona replied. "he is dead. he died in a house that is very close to here."

"he did not die, woman. he was foully murdered."

"why should i deny it?" leona said boldly. "my husband was murdered. he was slain by dr. gordon bruce for the sake of his money."

rené sneered. he crossed over to the door. leona laughed aloud.

"oh, i have not the slightest idea of trying to escape," she said. "why should i? i am entirely innocent of the death of your brother."

"you lured him to the corner house and drugged him. you kept him prisoner."

"i admit it. leon discovered my whereabouts, and that i was apparently rich and prosperous. he demanded large sums of money. as a matter of fact i was driven to my wits' ends for cash then, and i refused. i had to drug him and detain him to still that fool's tongue of his. he might have done me a grave mischief. then i had a bit of luck, and i gave leon four hundred sovereigns. he knew where you could be found; he told me he wanted to send half to you. i allowed him to go so that he could change his gold into notes for the purpose."

"yes, yes," rené said impatiently, "i know all that. why did you kill him?"

"why should i have killed him?" was the cool response. "at the rate he was going he would have drunk himself to death in another week."

the rage and lust for vengeance was only smouldering in rené's eyes now. it was just possible that he had made a mistake after all.

"but you were in the house," he said, "disguised as a spanish woman----"

"of course i was. leon and myself had come to an understanding. he was going abroad after he had sent you the money. at great risk to myself i passed between here and the corner house. i had to disguise myself. and when everything was ready leon got at the brandy bottle again. for some nights he had not slept. when i got to the corner house late that night leon was practically dead. ah, better for me if i had left him to die."

the passionate despair of the tones touched rené. it did not seem possible to the man that this woman was acting.

"but i didn't do anything of the kind," leona resumed. "i had balmayne to back me up. he played the part of a deaf mute servant for me and fetched dr. bruce in the motor car. when bruce came i departed, at least i left him on the premises. i dared not stay any longer. half bruce's story was a clever lie. he only told a portion of it. and it has been proved beyond doubt that the notes leon intended to send to you were paid by dr. bruce to a firm in the tottenham court road for some furniture. i am not romancing; you can see all this in the papers. every one of those missing notes had dr. bruce's signature on the back. how do you get over that?"

rené was silent for a moment. the woman's tongue was getting round him. and the practical part of her story was true.

"now, listen to me," he said hoarsely. "i came here to kill you; i came here to be avenged on my brother's murderer. when you saw me come in you were afraid."

"because i read your errand in your eyes. but i am not afraid now."

"i don't think you are," rené said, with grudging admiration. "do you know how i got here? we lured balmayne into a trap under the idea that he was going to meet ghetti, and i frightened your address out of him. he betrayed you."

the outburst of rage and scorn that rené expected was not forthcoming. she smiled.

"not in the way you mean," she said. "balmayne has fooled you to save his own skin. he knew i should make my story good and prove my innocence, or he would never have sent you to meet me tonight."

"he had no what you call alternative," rené growled.

"yes, he had. that man is far cleverer than you. you are a child to him in cunning with all your boasted brains. if you kill me tonight you commit a cold-blooded murder. but you are not going to do anything of the kind."

it began to dawn upon rené that the speaker was right. but he had another weapon still up his sleeves. his vengeance was not boiling within him as it had been, the red light no longer danced before his eyes.

"get me food," he said; "they starve you in those places yonder. i have tobacco, but my stomach craves for food. go and get me food. i'll go and lock the area door so that you may not give way to a desire to take the air. after that you can find me something."