She had firmly believed him dead--murdered in New York.

No, she would keep that part of the story to herself for the present; let it be told to him later by others.
"It is not so strange," she said at last, "for your disappearance is indirectly the occasion of my being here also.

I believe I can even call you by name.

You are Mr.Cavendish ?" "Yes," he admitted, his hands gripping the back of the bench nervously, his eyes filled with amazement "But--but I do not know you." "For the best of reasons," she answered smilingly, advancing and extending her hand--"because we have never met before.

However mysterious all this must seem to you, Mr.Cavendish, it is extremely simple when explained.