"What is Dane going to do?"
"Heaven knows! It isn't his affair, really. If there were any charge against me—well, you see, there'd have to be an extradition order. I should think he will probably lay the facts before Scotland Yard and let them do what they choose."
She made him sit down and drew a low chair herself to his side. She held his hand in hers.
"Philip," she said soothingly, "they can't possibly prove anything."
"They can prove," he pointed out, "that I was in Detton Magna that afternoon. I don't think any one except Beatrice saw me start along the canal path, but they can prove that I knew all about Douglas Romilly's disappearance, because I travelled to America under his name and with his ticket, and deliberately personated him."
"They can prove all that," she agreed, "but they can't prove the crime itself. Beatrice is the only person who could do that."
"She proposes to marry me," he announced grimly. "That would prevent her giving evidence at all."
Elizabeth suddenly threw her arms around his neck and held her cheek to his.
"She shan't marry you!" she declared. "I want you myself!"
"Elizabeth!"
"Yes, I have made up my mind, Philip. It is no use. The other things are fascinating and splendid in their way, but they don't count, they don't last. They're tinsel, dear, and I don't want tinsel—I want the gold. We'll face this bravely, wherever it leads,
