“I tell you Lambert loves me,” cried the woman doggedly, trying to persuade her heart that she spoke truly.  “And whether you leave your money to your wife, or to any one else, makes no manner of difference.”

“I think otherwise,” he retorted.  “And it is just as well to be on the safe side.  If my widow marries Lambert, she loses my millions, and they go to—­” He checked himself abruptly.  “Never mind who gets them.  It is a person in whom you can take no manner of interest.”

Miss Greeby pushed the point of her bludgeon into the spongy ground, and looked thoughtful.  “If Lambert loves Agnes still, which I don’t believe,” she observed, after a pause, “he would marry her even if she hadn’t a shilling.  Your will excluding him as her second husband is merely the twisting of a rope of sand, Pine.”

“You forget,” said the man quickly, “that I declared also, he would have to marry her in the face of Garvington’s opposition.”

“In what way?”

“Can’t you guess?  Garvington only allowed me to marry his sister because I am a wealthy man.  I absolutely bought my wife by helping him, and she gave herself to me without love to save the family name from disgrace.  She is a good woman, is Agnes, and always places duty before inclination.  Marriage with her pauper cousin meant practically the social extinction of the Lambert family, and nothing would have remained but the title.  Therefore she married me, and I felt mean at the time in accepting the sacrifice.  But I was so deeply in love with her that I did so.  I love her still, and I am mean enough still to be jealous of this cousin.  She shall never marry him, and I know that Garvington will appeal to his sister’s strong desire to save the family once more; so that she may not be foolish enough to lose the money.  And two millions, more or less,” ended Pine cynically, “is too large a sum to pay for a second husband.”

“Does Agnes know these conditions?”

“No.  Nor do I intend that she should know.  You hold your tongue.”

Miss Greeby pulled on her heavy gloves and nodded.  “I told you that I had some notion of honor.  Will you let Lambert know that you are in this neighborhood?”

“No.  There is no need.  I am stopping here only for a time to see a certain person.  Silver will look after Agnes, and is coming to the camp to report upon what he has observed.”

“Silver then knows that you are Ishmael Hearne?”

“Yes.  He knows all my secrets, and I can trust him thoroughly, since he owes everything to me.”

Miss Greeby laughed scornfully.  “That a man of your age and experience should believe in gratitude.  Well, it’s no business of mine.  You may be certain that for my own purpose I shall hold my tongue and shall keep Lambert from seeking your wife.  Not that he loves her,” she added hastily, as Pine’s brows again drew together.  “But she loves him, and may use her arts—­”