“That’s just what her ladyship said the other day,” answered Flockart, tossing away his cigarette.  “But you don’t know that I hold her irrevocably.  She dare not say a single word.  If she dare, why did she not tell the truth about the safe?”

“Probably because it was all too sudden.  She now finds life in that dismal little village intolerable.  She’s a girl of spirit, you know, and has always been used to luxury and freedom.  To live with an old woman in a country cottage away from all her friends must be maddening.  No, my dear James, in this you’ve acted most injudiciously.  You were devoid of your usual foresight.  Depend upon it, a very serious danger threatens.  She will speak.”

“I tell you she dare not.  Rest your mind assured.”

“She will.”

“She shall not!”

“How, pray, can you close her mouth?” asked the foreigner.

Flockart’s eyes met his.  In them was a curious expression, almost a glitter.

Krail understood.  He shrugged his shoulders, but uttered no word.  His gesture was, however, that of one unconvinced.  Adventurer as he was, ingenious and unscrupulous, he lived from hand to mouth.  Sometimes he made a big coup and placed himself in funds.  But following such an event he was open-handed and generous to his friends, extravagant in his expenditure; and very soon found himself under the necessity to exercise his wits in order to obtain the next louis.  He had known Flockart for years as one of his own class.  They had first met long ago on board a Castle liner homeward bound from Capetown, where both found themselves playing a crooked game.  A friendship begotten of dishonesty had sprung up between them, and in consequence they had thrown in their lot together more than once with considerable financial advantage.

The present affair was, however, not much to Krail’s liking, and this he had more than once told his friend.  It was quite possible that if they could discover the mysterious source of this blind man’s wealth they might, by judiciously levying blackmail through a third party, secure a very handsome income which he was to share with Flockart and her ladyship.

The last-named Krail had always admitted to be one of the cleverest women he had ever met.  His only surprise had been that she, as Sir Henry’s wife, was unable to get at the facts which were so cleverly withheld.  It only showed, however, that the Baronet, though deprived of eyesight, was even more clever than the unscrupulous woman he had so foolishly married.

Krail held Lady Heyburn in distinct distrust.  He had once had dealings with her which had turned out the reverse of satisfactory.  Instinctively he knew that, in order to save herself, if exposure ever came, she would “give him away” without the least compunction.

What had puzzled him for several years, and what, indeed, had puzzled other people, was the reason of the close friendship between Flockart and the Baronet’s wife.  It was certainly not affection.  He knew Flockart intimately, and had knowledge of his private affairs; therefore he was well aware of the existence of an unknown and rather insignificant woman to whom he was in secret devoted.