He was
quite to be trusted--he would do everything that was wanted. "Already,"
he said, "the Office will have received from the doctor a notification
of my death. Yesterday evening he wrote to everybody--to my
brother--confound him!--and to the family solicitor. Every moment that
I stay here increases the danger of my being seen and recognised--after
the Office has been informed that I am dead."
"Where are we to go?"
"I have thought of that. There is a little quiet town in Belgium where
no English people ever come at all. We will go there, then we will take
another name; we will be buried to the outer world, and will live, for
the rest of our lives, for ourselves alone. Do you agree?"
"I will do, Harry, whatever you think best."
"It will be for a time only. When all is ready, you will have to step
to the front--the will in your hand to be proved--to receive what is
due to you as the widow of Lord Harry Norland. You will go back to
Belgium, after awhile, so as to disarm suspicion, to become once more
the wife of William Linville."
Iris sighed heavily, Then she caught her husband's eyes gathering with
doubt, and she smiled again.
"In everything, Harry," she said, "I am your servant.
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