“You are not too flattering, Cyprienne.  Do not presume on my good-nature, and remember—­”

“What, pray?”

“What you owe me.  I am entitled to claim my reward.  You must repay me some day.”

“By marrying you?”

Her voice, as usual, began to tremble when she found herself in antagonism with this man.

“If that be the price I ask.  Why not?  We ought to be happy together.  We have so much in common, so many secrets—­”

“Enough of this!” she said shortly, but not bravely.

“And to be Lady Lydstone’s husband would give me a certain status—­a sufficient income.  I could help you to educate the boy, whom, by-the-way, I have never seen.  Yes; the notion pleases me.  I will be your second—­I beg your pardon, your third husband, probably your last.”

“I must beg of you, Hippolyte, to be careful; I hear some one coming.”

It was the Swiss butler, who entered rather timidly to say a gentleman had called on important business.

“What business?  Surely you have not admitted him?  If so, you shall leave my service.  You know it is contrary to my express orders.”

“He said you would see him, madam; that he came on the part of a friend, a very ancient friend, whose name I had but to tell you—­”

“What name?  Go on, Francois.”

“The name—­it is difficult.  Ru—­” he spoke very slowly, struggling with the strangeness of the sounds.  “Ru—­pert—­Gas—­”

“Who can this be?” Mrs. Wilders had turned very white and now beckoned Hobson to step out into the garden.  “Is it a message from beyond the grave?”

“Coward!” cried her companion contemptuously.  “The Seine seldom surrenders its prey.  Rupert Gascoigne is dead—­drowned, as you know, fourteen years ago.”

“But this visitor knew him—­he knows of my connection with him.  Else why come in his name?  Oh, Hippolyte, I tremble!  Help me.  Support me in my interview with this strange man.”

“No; it would not be safe.  If he knew Rupert Gascoigne, he may, too, have known Ledantec.  I will not meet him.”

“Who is the coward now?”

“I do not choose to run unnecessary risks.  But I will help you—­to this extent.  See the man, if you must see him, in the double drawing-room.  I will be within call.”

“And earshot?  I understand.”

“Well, what can I overhear—­about you, at least—­that I do not know already?  In any case I could help you.”

It was so arranged.  Mrs. Wilders bade her servant introduce the stranger, and presently joined him in the adjoining room.

“Mr. Hyde,” she began, composedly and very stiffly, “may I inquire the meaning of this intrusion?  You are a perfect stranger—­”

“Look well at me, Cyprienne Vergette.  Have years so changed me—?”

“Rupert?  Impossible!” she half-shrieked.  “Rupert is dead.  He died—­was drowned—­when—­”

“You deserted him, and left him, you and your vile partner, falsely accused of a foul crime.”