“Because she dare not say a single word against me.”

Krail looked him straight in the face with considerable surprise, but made no comment.

“She knows better,” Flockart added.

“Never believe too much in your own power with a woman, mon cher ami,” remarked the other dubiously.  “She’s young, therefore of a romantic turn of mind.  She’s in love, remember, which makes matters much worse for us.”

“Why?”

“Because, being in love, she may become seized with a sentimental fit.  This ends generally in a determination of self-sacrifice; and in such case she would tell the truth in defiance of you, and would be heedless of her own danger.”

Flockart drew a long breath.  What this man said was, he knew within his own heart, only too true of the girl towards whom they had been so cruel and so unscrupulous.  His had been a lifelong scheme, and as part of his scheme in conjunction with the woman who was Sir Henry’s wife, it had been unfortunately compulsory to sacrifice the girl who was the blind man’s right hand.

Yes, Gabrielle was deeply in love with Walter Murie—­the man upon whom Sir Henry now looked as his enemy, and who would have exposed him to the Greek Government if the blind man had not been too clever.  The Baronet, after his daughter’s confession, naturally attributed her curiosity to Walter’s initiative, the more especially that Walter had been in Paris, and, it was believed, in Athens also.

The pair were, however, now separated.  Krail, in pursuit of his diligent inquiries, had actually been in Woodnewton, and seen the lonely little figure, sad and dejected, taking long rambles accompanied only by a farmer’s sheep-dog.  Young Murie had not been there; nor did the pair now correspond.  This much Krail had himself discovered.

The problem placed before Flockart by his shabby friend was a somewhat disconcerting one.  On the one hand, Lady Heyburn had urged him to leave the Riviera, without giving him any reason, and on the other, he had the ever-present danger of Gabrielle, in a sudden fit of sentimental self-sacrifice, “giving him away.”  If she did, what then?  The mere suggestion caused him to bite his nether lip.

Krail knew a good deal, but he did not know all.  Perhaps it was as well that he did not.  There is a code of honour among adventurers all the world over; but few of them can resist the practice of blackmail when they chance to fall upon evil days.

“Yes,” Flockart said reflectively, as at Krail’s suggestion they turned and began to descend the steep hill towards Ospedaletti, “perhaps it’s a pity, after all, that the girl left Glencardine.  Yet surely she’s safer with her aunt?”

“She was driven from Glencardine!”

“By her father.”

“You sacrificed her in order to save yourself.  That was but natural.  It’s a pity, however, you didn’t take my advice.”

“I suggested it to Lady Heyburn.  But she would have nothing to do with it.  She declared that such a course was far too dangerous.”