“I shall keep myself out of sight,” said Pine sullenly and suspiciously.

“Some of your gypsy friends may let the cat out of the bag.”

“Not one of them knows there is a cat in the bag.  I am Ishmael Hearne to them, and nothing else.  But I shan’t stay here long.”

“I wonder you came at all, seeing that your wife is with her brother.”

“In the daring of my coming lies my safety,” said Pine tartly.  “I know what I am doing.  As to Lambert, if he thinks to marry my wife when I am dead he is mistaken.”

“Well, I hope you won’t die, for my sake!”

“Why for your sake?” asked Pine sharply.

“Because I love Lambert and I want to marry him.”

“Marry him,” said the millionaire hoarsely, “and I’ll give you thousands of pounds.  Oh!  I forgot that you have a large income.  But marry him, marry him, Miss Greeby.  I shall help you all I can.”

“I can do without assistance,” said the woman coolly.  “All I ask you to do is to refrain from fighting with Lambert.”

“What?” Pine’s face became lowering again.  “Is he at The Manor?  You said—­”

“I know what I said.  He is not at The Manor, but he is stopping in the cottage a stone’s throw from here.”

Pine breathed hard, and again had a spasm of coughing.  “What’s he doing?”

“Painting pictures.”

“He has not been near The Manor?”

“No.  And what is more, he told me to-day that he did not intend to go near the house.  I don’t think you need be afraid, Pine.  Lambert is a man of honor, and I hope to get him to be my husband.”

“He shall never be my wife’s husband,” said the millionaire between his teeth and scowling heavily.  “I know that I shan’t live to anything like three score and ten.  Your infernal hot-house civilization has killed me.  But if Lambert thinks to marry my widow he shall do so in the face of Garvington’s opposition, and will find Agnes a pauper.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Miss Greeby flung away the stump of her cigarette and rose to her feet.

Pine wiped his brow and breathed heavily.  “I mean that I have left Agnes my money, only on condition that she does not marry Lambert.  She can marry any one else she has a mind to.  I except her cousin.”

“Because she loves him?”

“Yes, and because he loves her, d—­n him.”

“He doesn’t,” cried Miss Greeby, lying fluently, and heartily wishing that her lie could be a truth.  “He loves me, and I intend to marry him.  Now you can understand what I meant when I declared that I had honor enough to keep your secret.  Lambert is my honor.”

“Oh, then I believe in your honor,” sneered Pine cynically.  “It is a selfish quality in this case, which can only be gratified by preserving silence.  If Agnes knew that I was a true Romany tramp, she might run away with Lambert, and as you want him to be your husband, it is to your interest to hold your tongue.  Thank you for nothing, Miss Greeby.”