The two young people remained alone, looking at one another, and feeling quite aghast at the position in which they now found themselves. They had not expected Sir Joseph's appearance, much less that he would behave in so brutal¹ a manner. Moreover, he had repelled² the hinted accusation³ so calmly, and had admitted so freely that he had been in Walpole Lane, that both Audrey and Ralph felt certain he was completely innocent. Certainly, they had not directly accused him of committing the crime--the girl especially would have been horrified⁴ at the mere⁵ idea--but Sir Joseph had taken what they said to mean that they suspected him, and so had revenged himself in the cruel way he had done.  
The bang of the door startled both from the momentary⁶ state of stupor⁷ into which the unexpected behaviour of Branwin had plunged⁸ them. Audrey, with a white face and startled eyes, looked at her lover. "What is to be done now?" she asked in a low voice.
 
"You must drive back home at once," said Ralph, determinedly⁹.
 
She shook her head. "It is useless. My father will go straight home and give orders that I am not to be admitted."
 
"Oh, that is impossible. Think of the scandal."
 
"Papa does not mind the scandal. Already he has shown how far he is prepared to go by having me watched by Ranger¹⁰. Oh"--she clenched¹¹ her hand--"think of the disgrace of it all!"
 
"Then you must stay the night at some hotel."
 
"I cannot--I have no baggage. What hotel would take me in with no baggage? I have very little money too, and only the clothes I stand up in."
 
"Oh, the money doesn't matter, my darling. I can provide you with what you require," said Ralph, hastily; then muttered through his teeth: "But it is a confoundedly awkward situation in any case. Your father is a brute¹²."
 
"He is what he has always been," said Audrey, with a tired sigh, for the late conversation had quite broken her up--"a man who has always had his own way. There is only one thing to be done"--and she rose.
 
"What is that?" asked Shawe, hopefully.
 
"I must go to the Pink Shop and throw myself on the mercy of my aunt."
 
Ralph brightened. "You clever darling to think of that," he said, looking at his watch. "It's half-past ten o'clock. I wonder if she will be still up?"
 
"I daresay; if not, we can rouse her. Come, Ralph"--she pulled down her veil to hide a very white face--"let us go at once. Oh, I do hope that my father will say nothing of my being here to anyone. I now see how rash I have been. It's terrible."
 
"Darling, I really don't think your father will say anything; for very shame he cannot. He will account for your absence by saying that you refused to obey him with regard to this marriage with Anvers, and that he turned you out. Everyone who knows what an animal he is will believe this version. I am quite sure that your visit here will never be known."
 
Thus comforted, and seeing the commonsense¹³ view taken by Shawe, Audrey went down the stairs with her lover, and they passed out of the great block of buildings and through the Gardens. The porter was not visible, and as Audrey wore such a thick veil, it was not likely that he would be able to recognise her on any future occasion. In Fleet Street the barrister procured¹⁴ a cab, and they drove westward¹⁵ in silence. The whole thing seemed like a nightmare, and Audrey shivered like a leaf. It was terrible to think that she had no home. If Madame Coralie refused to take her in, Heaven only knew what she could do; but she had every hope that her aunt would stand by her at this crisis, particularly as she seemed to hate Sir Joseph.
 
"Audrey darling, I think we must get married," said Ralph, after a long silence; "things can't go on in this way."
 
"But your career?" said Audrey, faintly.
 
"Never mind my career. Your father has deserted¹⁶ you, so you must become my wife, in order that I may have the right to protect you. Madame Coralie can keep you with her until we can arrange matters."
 
"But if Mrs. Mellop comes to hear of--"
 
"When you are my wife no one will dare to say a word," said Ralph, decidedly. "If anyone does, he or she will have to reckon with me. Besides, as I told you before, your father, brutal as he is, will not be such a fool as to soil the name of his own daughter. Popularity is the breath of his nostrils¹⁷, and people would cry out on him if he talked of your visit to me."
 
"Yes." Audrey felt cheered when Ralph talked in this way. "I think you are right. But I do hope my aunt will take me in."
 
"From what you told me of the interview I think she will, dear. She seems to hate Sir Joseph in a very healthy manner. Audrey, I really don't know how you came to have such a father. I don't believe that you are his daughter. There must be some mistake."
 
"I wish I were anyone else's daughter indeed," said the girl, sighing.
 
"You will soon be my wife, so that will settle everything," said Ralph, as the cab turned into Walpole Lane. "Here we are, dearest. There is a light in the upstairs window, so Madame Coralie has not yet retired¹⁸."
 
Having dismissed the cab, Shawe rang the bell, and shortly Badoura appeared to open the door, and to look with astonishment¹⁹ at the pair. "Will you tell Madame Coralie that Miss Branwin wishes to see her," said Shawe. "She is just returning from the theatre, and we called in here on our way to Camden Hill."
 
As Audrey wore a long cloak over her dress Badoura could not see that she was in walking costume, and quite believed the story. Of course, she knew who Shawe was, since that young gentleman had accompanied Miss Branwin on the morning when the death of the poor woman had been discovered. She, therefore, readily accepted the false explanation as a true one, and invited the two into the shop while she went upstairs to Madame Coralie, who was, it appeared, working late in the still-room at some newly-invented lotion²⁰. In the perfumed and dimly-lighted shop the lovers waited.
 
"That girl does not suspect the truth, you see," whispered Ralph, hurriedly.
 
"Thanks to your clever explanation," replied Audrey, in the same low voice. "But what am I to say when I stay here all night?"
 
"Your aunt will invent an explanation. Don't trouble. Here she is."
 
Even as Shawe spoke²¹ the heavy footfall of the woman was heard, and she came into the shop hurriedly. Her eyes, which were visible above the black silk of the yashmak, looked startled and anxious, although the rest of her face could not be seen. Evidently, and with very good reason, she was alarmed by this late and unexpected visit.
 
"Aunt Flora²²," began Audrey, and had only uttered the name, when Madame Coralie pointed²³ to Shawe with an alarmed gesture. "Oh, that is all right!" went on the girl, rapidly. "He knows all about it. I told you that I would tell him; don't you remember?"
 
"Yes," said Madame Coralie, in her harsh voice, and peering at the young man anxiously, "I gave you permission to tell him. But mind you hold your tongue, Mr. Shawe." Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned to Audrey: "What is the matter that you come here at this hour?"
 
"My father has turned me out of the house, Aunt Flora, and I come to you for shelter," said Audrey, rapidly. "I have nowhere to go."
 
Madame Coralie clutched her yashmak and stamped her foot. When she spoke her voice was almost inarticulate with rage. "Do you mean to say that Joseph has dared to turn you from your home at this hour?"
 
"Yes." And Audrey, assisted by Shawe, rapidly related all that had taken place, although they both suppressed, for obvious reasons, any account of the suspicions they entertained on the evidence of Parizade's keen sense of smell. "So you see," ended the girl, with a sob

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