But now, thanks to her unscrupulous confederate, the staunch friend who had stood by her so often before, the last and worst difficulty was removed, and everything would be well.

Another day passed without further intelligence from Paris, but Ledantec’s silence aroused no fresh apprehensions.  Doubtless there was nothing special to tell; matters were progressing favourably, of course; until her husband was actually arrested, she could expect to hear nothing more.

On the evening of the third day, however—­that, in fact, following Gascoigne’s visit to the Mairie—­she had a short letter from Lincoln’s Inn.  Lord Essendine’s lawyers wrote her, begging she would call on them early next day, as they had an important communication to make to her.  His lordship himself would be present, and their noble client had suggested, if that would suit her, an appointment for twelve noon.

“At last!  They mean to do the right thing at last,” she said, exultingly.  “The proud old man is humbled; he fears the extinction of his ancient line, and must make overtures now to me.  My boy is the heir; they cannot resist his rights; his claim is undeniable.  He shall be amply provided for; I shall insist on the most liberal terms.”

Fully satisfied of the cause of her summons to Lincoln’s Inn, Mrs. Wilders presented herself punctually at twelve.  Although she still schooled her face to sorrowful commiseration with the old peer whom fate had so sorely stricken, the elation she felt was manifest in her proud, arrogant carriage, and the triumphant glitter of her bold brown eyes.

Lord Essendine was with the senior partner, Mr. Burt, when she was shown in; and although he arose stiffly, but courteously, from his seat, did not take her outstretched hand, while his greeting was cold and formal in the extreme.

There was a long pause, and, as neither of the gentlemen spoke, Mrs. Wilders began.

“You sent for me, my lord—­”

His lordship waved his hand toward Mr. Burt, as though she must address herself to the old lawyer.

“Mrs. Wilders,” said Mr. Burt, gravely and with great deliberation—­“Mrs. Wilders, if that indeed be your correct appellation—­”

And the doubt thus implied, reviving her worst fears, sent a cold shock to her heart.

But she was outwardly brave.

“How dare you!” she cried with indignant defiance in her tone.  “Have you only brought me here to insult me?  I appeal to your lordship.  Is this the treatment I am to expect?  I, your cousin’s widow—­”

“One moment, madam,” interposed the lawyer.  “To be a widow it is first necessary to have been a wife.”

“Do you presume to say I was not General Wilders’s wife?” she asked hotly.

“Not his lawful wife.  Stay, madam,” he said, seeing Mrs. Wilders half rise from her chair.  “You must hear me out.  We have evidence, the clearest seemingly; disprove it if you can.”