, fair-haired woman. "But when I speak he will listen, depend
upon it."

"You dare!" he cried, turning upon her in threatening attitude. "You
dare utter a single word against me, and, by Heaven! I'll tell what I
know. The country shall ring with a scandal--the shame of your attitude
towards the girl, and a crime for which you will be arraigned, with me,
before an assize-court. Remember!"

The woman shrank from him. Her face had blanched. She saw that he was
equally as determined as she was desperate. James Flockart always kept
his threats. He was by no means a man to trifle with.

For a moment she was thoughtful, then she laughed defiantly in his face.
"Speak! Say what you will. But if you do, you suffer with me."

"You say that exposure is imminent," he remarked. "How did the girl
manage to return to Glencardine?"

"With Walter's aid. He went down to Woodnewton. What passed between them
I have no idea. I only returned the day before yesterday from the South.
All I know is that the girl is back with her father, and that he knows
much more than he ought to know."

"Murie could not have assisted her," Flockart declared decisively. "The
old man suspects him of taking those Russian papers from the safe."

"How do you know he hasn't cleared himself of the suspicion? He may have
done. The old man dotes upon the girl."

"I know all that."

"And she may have turned upon you, and told the truth about the safe
incident. That's more than likely."

"She dare not utter a word."

"You're far too self-confident. It is your failing."

"And when, pray, has it failed? Tell me."

"Never, until the present moment. Your bluff is perfect, yet there are
moments when it cannot aid you, depend upon it. She told me one night
long ago, in my own room, when she had disobeyed, defied, and annoyed
me, that she would never rest until Sir Henry knew the truth, and that
she would place before him proofs of the other affair. She has long
intended to do this; and now, thanks to your attitude of passive
inertness, she has accomplished her intentions."

"What!" he gasped in distinct alarm, "has she told her father the
truth?"

"A telegram I received from Sir Henry late last night makes it only too
plain that he knows something," responded the unhappy woman, staring
straight before her. "It is your fault--your fault!" she went on,
turning suddenly upon her companion again. "I warned you of the danger
long ago."

Flockart stood motionles