Yet
I would not prejudge her--no, and I won't now!" he added with a fierce
resolution.
"I love her," he went on, "and she reciprocates my love. Ours is a
secret engagement made in Malta two years ago, and yet you tell me that
she has pledged herself to that fellow Woodroffe--the man known here in
London as Dick Archer. I can't believe it--I really can't, old fellow.
She could never write to me as she has done, urging patience and secrecy
until my return."
"Unless, of course, she desired to gain time," I suggested.
But my friend was silent; his brows were deep knit.
"Woodroffe is at the present moment in Petersburg," I said. "I've just
come back from there."
"In St. Petersburg!" he gasped, surprised. "Then he is with that
villainous official, Baron Oberg, the Governor-General of Finland."
"No; Oberg is living shut up in his palace at Helsingfors, fearing to go
out lest he shall be assassinated," was my answer.
"And Elma? What has become of her?"
"She is in hiding in Petersburg, awaiting such time as I can get her
safely out of Russia," and then, continuing, I explained how she had
been maimed and rendered deaf and dumb.
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