her
inspection.

"Do you recognise this?" he asked, with a sinister grin.

She drew back and held her breath.

"I'll read it," he said with a triumphant laugh. "I kept it as a
souvenir. The man you call husband will no doubt be very pleased to see
it." Then he read the words:

"_In spite of my love for you, Ralph, I cannot suffer
longer. Certain hidden things in your life frighten me.
Farewell. Forget me._--JEAN."

For a few seconds she was silent. Her face was white as paper.

Then, with a sudden outburst, she gasped, in a low, terrified voice, and
putting up her arms with a wild gesture:

"No, no! You must not show that to him. You won't, Ralph--for my sake,
you won't. Will you?"

CHAPTER XXV.

TO PAY THE PRICE.

"Well?" asked Ansell, looking at his wife with a distinctly evil grin.

"Well?" she answered blankly, for want of something else to say.

"What will you give me for this letter?" he asked, carefully replacing
it in his wallet and transferring it to his pocket with an air of
supreme satisfaction.

"I have nothing to give, Ralph."

"But you can find something quite easily," he urged, with mock
politeness. "Your ladyship must control a bit of cash-money. Remember,
I've already made enquiries, and I know quite well that this man
Bracondale is extremely wealthy. Surely he doesn't keep too tight a hold
on the purse-strings!"

"I have already told you that I have no money except what Lord
Bracondale gives me, and he often looks at my banker's pass-book. He
would quickly ask me where the money had gone to."

"Bah! You are a woman, and a woman can easily make an excuse. He'll
believe anything if he is really fond of you, as I suppose he must be.
You wouldn't like him to have that letter--would you, now?"

"No. I've told you that," she replied, her pale, dry lips moving
nervously.

"Then we shall have to discuss very seriously ways and means, and come
to terms, my girl," was his rough rejoinder.

"But how can I make terms with you?"

"Quite easily--by getting money."

"I can't!" she cried.

"Well, I guess I'm not going to starve and see you living in luxury--a
leader of London society. It isn't likely, now, is it?"

"No; knowing you as well as I do, I suppose it isn't likely."

"Ah! You do me an injustice, Jean," he said. "I only want just
sufficient to get away from here--to America--and begin afresh a new
life. I'll turn over a new leaf--believe me, I will. I wa