scoundrel who has come
between me and my affianced bride. He'll have to settle with me,
whoever he is," and so saying, Benito came closer to McKay, whom
hitherto he had not recognised. "The Englishman!" he cried, starting
back.

"Very much at your service," replied McKay, shortly. "I am not afraid
of your threats. I think I can hold my own with you as I have done
before."

"We shall see," and with a muttered execration, full of hatred and
malice, he rushed from the place.

When, an hour or two later, Mrs. Wilders hunted him up at the Redhot
Shell Ramp, she found him in a mood fit for any desperate deed. But,
with native cunning, he pretended to show reluctance when she asked
him for his help.

"Who is it you hate? An Englishman? Any one on the Rock?" he said.
"And what do you want done? I have no wish to bring myself within
reach of the English law."

"It is an English officer. He is here just now, but will presently
return to the Crimea."

"What is his name?" asked Benito, eagerly, his black heart inflamed
with a wild hope of revenge.

"McKay--Stanislas McKay, of the Royal Picts."

It was his name! A fierce, baleful light gleamed in Benito's dark
eyes; he clenched his fists and set his teeth fast.

"You know him?" said Mrs. Wilders, readily interpreting these signs of
hate.

"I should like to kill him!" hissed Benito.

"Do so, and claim your own reward."

"But how? When? Where?"

"That is for you to settle. Watch him, stick to him, dog his
footsteps, follow him wherever he goes. Some day he must give you a
chance."

"Leave it to me. The moment will come when I shall sheathe my knife in
his heart."

"I think I can trust you. Only do it well, and never let me see him
again."

CHAPTER XXII.

MR. HOBSON CALLS.

The _Arcadia_ went direct from Gibraltar to Southampton, where Mrs.
Wilders left it and returned to London.

It was necessary for her to review her position and look things in the
face. Her circumstances were undoubtedly straitened since her
husband's death. She had her pension as the widow of a general
officer--but this was a mere pittance at best--and the interest of the
small private fortune settled, at the time of the marriage, on her and
her children, should she have any. Her income from both these sources
amounted to barely L300 a year--far too meagre an amount according to
her present ideas, burdened as she was, moreover, with the care and
education of a child.

But ho