“No.  Not face to face,” he replied curtly.  “I contrived to avoid him in the park, and kept well within the shadows, when I saw him spying through the window.

“Curse him!” he added with savage fury, “curse him, for a meddlesome, spying cur!”

“The whole thing is becoming vastly dangerous,” she sighed.

“Yet it must last for another few weeks at least....”

“I know ... and Lambert is a desperate enemy:  he dogs Sue’s footsteps, he will come upon you one day when you are alone, or with her ... he will provoke a quarrel....”

“I know—­I know ...” he retorted impatiently, “’tis no use recapitulating the many evil contingencies that might occur....  I know that Lambert is dangerous ... damn him! ...  Would to God I could be rid of him ... somehow.”

“You can dismiss him,” she suggested, “pay him his wages and send him about his business.”

“What were the use?  He would remain in the village—­in his brother’s cottage mayhap ... with more time on his hands for his spying work....  He would dog the wench’s steps more jealously than eve....  No! no!” he added, whilst he cast a quick, furtive look at her—­a look which somehow caused her to shiver with apprehension more deadly than heretofore.

“That’s not what I want,” he said significantly.

“What’s to be done?” she murmured, “what’s to be done?”

“I must think,” he rejoined harshly.  “But we must get that love-sick youth out of the way ... him and his airs of Providence in disguise....  Something must be done to part him from the wench effectually and completely ... something that would force him to quit this neighborhood ... forever, if possible.”

She did not reply immediately, but fixed her large, dark eyes upon him, silently for a while, then she murmured: 

“If I only knew!”

“Knew what?”

“If I could trust you, Marmaduke!”

He laughed, a harsh, cruel laugh which grated upon her ear.

“We know too much of one another, my dear Editha, not to trust each other.”

“My whole future depends on you.  I am penniless.  If you marry Sue....”

“I can provide for you,” he interrupted roughly.  “What can I do now?  My penury is worse than yours.  So, my dear, if you have a plan to propound for the furtherance of my schemes, I pray you do not let your fear of the future prevent you from lending me a helping hand.”

“A thought crossed my mind,” she said eagerly, “the thought of something which would effectually force Richard Lambert to quit this neighborhood for ever.”

“What were that?”

“Disgrace.”

“Disgrace?” he exclaimed.  “Aye! you are right.  Something mean ... paltry ... despicable ... something that would make her gracious ladyship turn away from him in disgust ... and would force him to go away from here ... for ever.”

He looked at her closely, scrutinizing her face, trying to read her thoughts.