“I shall not go,” she answered boldly.  “I have discovered a thief in my father’s house; therefore my duty is to remain here.”

“No.  Surely your duty is to go upstairs and tell him;” and he bent again, resuming his rapid memoranda.  “Well,” he asked defiantly, a few moments later, seeing that she had not moved, “aren’t you going?”

“I shall not leave you here alone.”

“Don’t.  I might run away with some of the ornaments.”

“Oh, yes!” exclaimed the girl bitterly, “you taunt me because you are well aware of my helplessness—­of what occurred on that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon—­of how completely you have me in your power!  I see it all.  You defy me, well knowing that you could, in a moment, bring upon me a vengeance terrible and complete.  It is all horrible!” she cried, covering her face with her hands.  “I know that I am in your power.  And you have no pity, no remorse.”

“I gave you full warning,” he declared, placing the papers upon the table and looking at her.  “I gave you your choice.  You cannot blame me.  You had ample time and opportunity.”

“But I still have one man who loves me—­a man who will yet stand my friend and defend me, even against you!”

“Walter Murie!” he laughed, with a quick gesture of disregard.  “You believe him to be your friend?  Recollect, my dear Gabrielle, that men are deceivers ever.”

“So it seems in your case,” she exclaimed with poignant bitterness.  “You have brought scandalous comment upon my father’s name, and yet you are utterly unconcerned.”

“Because, as I have already told you, your father is my friend.”

“And it is his money which you spend so freely,” she said, in a low, hard voice of reproach.  “It comes from him.”

“His money!” he exclaimed quickly.  “What do you mean?  What do you imply?”

“Simply that among my father’s accounts a short time back I found two cheques drawn by Lady Heyburn in your favour.”

“And you told your father of them, of course!” he exclaimed with sarcasm.  “A remarkable discovery, eh?”

“I told him nothing,” was her bold reply.  “Not because I wished to shield you, but because I did not wish to pain him unduly.  He has worries sufficient, in all conscience.”

“Your devotion is really most charming,” the man declared calmly, leaning against the table and examining her critically from head to foot.  “Sir Henry believes in you.  You are his dutiful daughter—­pure, good, and all that!” he sneered.  “I wonder what he would say if he—­well, if he knew just a little of the truth, of what happened that day at Chantilly?”

“The truth!  Ah, and you would tell him—­you!” she gasped in a broken voice, her sweet, innocent face blanched to the lips in an instant.  “You would drag my good name into the mire, and blast my life for ever with just as little compunction as you would shoot a rabbit.  I know—­I know you only too well, Mr. Flockart!  I stand in your way; I am in your way as well as in Lady Heyburn’s.  You are only awaiting an opportunity to wreck my life and crush me!  Once I am away from here, my poor father will be helpless in your hands!”