“A thought crossed your mind,” he demanded peremptorily.  “What is it?”

“The house in London,” she murmured.

“You are not afraid?”

“Oh!” she said with a careless shrug of the shoulders.

“The Protector’s spies are keen,” he urged, eager to test her courage, her desire to help him.

“They’ll scarce remember me after two years.”

“Hm!  Their memory is keen ... and the new laws doubly severe.”

“We’ll be cautious.”

“How can you let your usual clients know?  They are dispersed.”

“Oh, no!  My Lord Walterton is as keen as ever and Sir James Overbury would brave the devil for a night at hazard.  A message to them and we’ll have a crowd every night.”

“’Tis well thought on, Editha,” he said approvingly.  “But we must not delay.  Will you go to London to-morrow?”

“An you approve.”

“Aye! you can take the Dover coach and be in town by nightfall.  Then write your letters to my Lord Walterton and Sir James Overbury.  Get a serving wench from Alverstone’s in the Strand, and ask the gentlemen to bring their own men, for the sake of greater safety.  They’ll not refuse.”

“Refuse?” she said with a light laugh, “oh, no!”

“To-day being Tuesday, you should have your first evening entertainment on Friday.  Everything could be ready by then.”

“Oh, yes!”

“Very well then, on Friday, I, too, will arrive in London, my dear Editha, escorted by my secretary, Master Richard Lambert, and together we will call and pay our respects at your charming house in Bath Street.”

“I will do my share.  You must do yours, Marmaduke.  Endicott will help you:  he is keen and clever.  And if Lambert but takes a card in his hand ...”

“Nay! he will take the cards, mine oath on that!  Do you but arrange it all with Endicott.”

“And, Marmaduke, I entreat you,” she urged now with sudden earnestness, “I entreat you to beware of my Lord Protector’s spies.  Think of the consequences for me!”

“Aye!” he said roughly, laughing that wicked, cruel laugh of his, which damped her eagerness, and struck chill terror into her heart, “aye! the whipping-post for you, fair Editha, for keeping a gaming-house.  What?  Of a truth I need not urge you to be cautious.”

Probably at this moment she would have given worlds—­had she possessed them—­if she could but have dissociated herself from her brother-in-law’s future altogether.  Though she was an empty-headed, brainless kind of woman, she was not by nature a wicked one.  Necessity had driven her into linking her fortunes with those of Sir Marmaduke.  And he had been kind to her, when she was in deep distress:  but for him she would probably have starved, for her beauty had gone and her career as an actress had been, for some inexplicable reason, quite suddenly cut short, whilst a police raid on the gaming-house over which she presided had very nearly landed her in a convict’s cell.