rds upon her. Upon her decision
depended his whole future as well as hers. What was Gabrielle's life to
hers, asked the man point-blank. That was the question which decided
her--decided her, after long and futile resistance, to promise to commit
the act which he had suggested. She gave the man her hand in pledge.

Then a slight smile of triumph played about his cruel nether lip, and
the pair retraced their steps towards the castle in silence.

CHAPTER VIII

CASTING THE BAIT

Loving and perishing: these have tallied from eternity. Love and death
walk hand-in-hand. The will to love means also to be ready for death.

Gabrielle Heyburn recognised this truth. She had the will to love, and
she had the resolve to perish--perish by her own hand--rather than allow
her secret to be exposed. Those who knew her--a young, athletic,
merry-faced, open-air girl on the verge of budding womanhood, so
true-hearted, frank, and free--little dreamed of the terrible nature of
that secret within her young heart.

She held aloof from her lover as much as she dared. True, Walter came to
Glencardine nearly every day, but she managed to avoid him whenever
possible. Why? Because she knew her own weakness; she feared being
compelled by his stronger nature, and by the true affection in which she
held him, to confess. They walked together in the cool, shady glen
beside the rippling burn, climbed the neighbouring hills, played tennis,
or else she lay in the hammock at the edge of the lawn while he lounged
at her side smoking cigarettes. She did all this because she was
compelled.

Her most enjoyable hours were the quiet ones spent at Her father's side.
Alone in the library, she read to him, in French, those curious business
documents which came so often by registered post. They were so strangely
worded that, not knowing their true import, she failed to understand
them. All were neatly typed, without any heading to the paper. Sometimes
a printed address in the Boulevard des Capucines, Paris, would appear on
letters accompanying the enclosures. But all were very formal, and to
Gabrielle extremely puzzling.

Sir Henry always took the greatest precaution that no one should obtain
sight of these confidential reports or overhear them read by his
daughter. Before she sat down to read, she always shot the small brass
bolt on the door to prevent Hill or any other intruder from entering.
More than once the Baronet's wife had wanted to come in while