have so much in common, so many secrets--"

"Enough of this!" she said shortly, but not bravely.

"And to be Lady Lydstone's husband would give me a certain status--a
sufficient income. I could help you to educate the boy, whom,
by-the-way, I have never seen. Yes; the notion pleases me. I will be
your second--I beg your pardon, your third husband, probably your
last."

"I must beg of you, Hippolyte, to be careful; I hear some one coming."

It was the Swiss butler, who entered rather timidly to say a gentleman
had called on important business.

"What business? Surely you have not admitted him? If so, you shall
leave my service. You know it is contrary to my express orders."

"He said you would see him, madam; that he came on the part of a
friend, a very ancient friend, whose name I had but to tell you--"

"What name? Go on, Francois."

"The name--it is difficult. Ru--" he spoke very slowly, struggling
with the strangeness of the sounds. "Ru--pert--Gas--"

"Who can this be?" Mrs. Wilders had turned very white and now beckoned
Hobson to step out into the garden. "Is it a message from beyond the
grave?"

"Coward!" cried her companion contemptuously. "The Seine seldom
surrenders its prey. Rupert Gascoigne is dead--drowned, as you know,
fourteen years ago."

"But this visitor knew him--he knows of my connection with him. Else
why come in his name? Oh, Hippolyte, I tremble! Help me. Support me in
my interview with this strange man."

"No; it would not be safe. If he knew Rupert Gascoigne, he may, too,
have known Ledantec. I will not meet him."

"Who is the coward now?"

"I do not choose to run unnecessary risks. But I will help you--to
this extent. See the man, if you must see him, in the double
drawing-room. I will be within call."

"And earshot? I understand."

"Well, what can I overhear--about you, at least--that I do not know
already? In any case I could help you."

It was so arranged. Mrs. Wilders bade her servant introduce the
stranger, and presently joined him in the adjoining room.

"Mr. Hyde," she began, composedly and very stiffly, "may I inquire the
meaning of this intrusion? You are a perfect stranger--"

"Look well at me, Cyprienne Vergette. Have years so changed me--?"

"Rupert? Impossible!" she half-shrieked. "Rupert is dead. He died--was
drowned--when--"

"You deserted him, and left him, you and your vile partner, falsely
accused of a foul crime."

"I cannot--will not believe it. Y