And yet, Diana reflected, both her husband and Miss de Gervais knew quite well who the assailant was!  “The taller of the two,” Adrienne had said through the telephone.  Why, then, with that clue in her hands, did she refuse to prosecute?

Suddenly, into Diana’s mind flashed an answer to the question—­to the multitude of questions which had perplexed, her for so long.  She felt as a traveller may who has been journeying along an unknown way in the dark, hurt and bruised by stones and pitfalls he could not see, when suddenly a light shines out, revealing all the dangers of the path.

The explanation of all those perplexities and suspicions of the past was so simple, so obvious, that she marvelled why it had never occurred to her before.  Adrienne de Gervais was neither more or less than an adventuress—­one of the vampire type of woman who preys upon mankind, drawing them into her net by her beauty and charm, even as she had drawn Max himself!  This, this supplied the key to the whole matter—­all that had gone before, and all that was now making such a mockery of her married life.

And the “poor devil of a fellow” who had attempted Adrienne’s life had probably figured largely in her past, one of her dupes, and now, understanding at last what kind of woman it was for whom he had very likely sacrificed all that made existence worth while, he was obsessed with a crazy desire for vengeance—­vengeance at any price.  And Adrienne, of course, in her extremity, had turned to her latest captive, Max himself, for protection!

Oh! it was all quite clear now!  The scattered pieces of the puzzle were fitting together and making a definite picture.

Stray remarks of Olga Lermontof’s came back to her—­those little pointed arrows wherewith the Russian had skilfully found out the joints in her armour—­“Miss de Gervais is not quite what she seems.”  And again, “I’m perfectly sure Adrienne de Gervais’ past is a closed book to you.”  Proof positive that Olga had known all along what Diana had only just this moment perceived to be the truth.

Diana’s small hands clenched themselves until the nails dug into the soft palms, as she remembered how those same hands had been held out in friendship to this very adventuress—­to the woman who had wrecked her happiness, and for whom Max was ready at any time to set her and her wishes upon one side!  What a blind, trusting fool she had been!  Well, that was all ended now; she knew where she stood.  Never again would Max or Adrienne be able to deceive her.  The scales had at last fallen from her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Diana”—­Max’s cool, quiet tones broke in on the torment of her thoughts.  “I’m sorry, but I shall probably have to be away several days.”

“Have you forgotten we’re giving a big reception here next Wednesday?”

“Wednesday, is it?  And to-day is Saturday.  I shall find rooms somewhere to-morrow, and take Adrienne and Mrs. Adams down to them the next day. . .  No, I can’t possibly be back for Wednesday.”