"
"You have not told me who the man was who helped you to escape from your
manor at Lenfield," said Barbara.
"He desired me not to speak of him, and I must keep faith."
"Yet he told you of Martin."
"He spoke only of a fiddler," said Crosby.
"Have I no means of persuading you to tell me his name?" she said,
leaning a little across the table towards him, with a look of pleading
in her eyes. Most men would have found the temptation difficult to
resist.
"I do not think you would try any means to make a man break his
promise," Crosby said.
The grey eyes looked straight into hers, and the voice had that little
tone of sternness in it which she had noted that day at Newgate.
"Perhaps not," she said; "but it is provoking. To have a nameless
partner in such an affair as this is to have more mystery than I care
for."
"Did you ever hear of a Mr. Sydney Fellowes?"
"So you have told me after all," she said, disappointment in her voice.
He was not the strong man she supposed him to be--merely one a woman
could cajole at her ease. She was too disappointed in him to realise at
once how strange it was that he should speak of Sydney Fellowes.
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