“O Gilly, swear to me that you will not harbour evil thoughts, that you will put aside the devil who is prompting and luring you to some awful crime!”

“Psha, Phillipa, you ought to have gone into the Church.  Moderate your transports—­here comes one of the footmen.”

“A person to see you, sir,” said the servant.  “He ’aven’t got any card, but his business is very particular.”

“I can’t see him; send him away.  If he won’t go call the police.”

“Says his name, sir, is Shubenacady.”

“Take him to the library; I’ll come.”

Jillingham’s face was rather pale, and his lips were set firm when he met his visitor.

“What the mischief do you want?”

“Five thou—­ten—­what you please.  I know of a splendid investment.”

“In soap?”

He was the dirtiest creature that ever was seen.  He wore a full suit of black, but the coat and trousers were white with age and dust-stains; an open waistcoat, exposing an embroidered shirt which could not have been washed for months; his hat was napless, and had a limp brim; no gloves, and the grimiest of hands.  But he was decorated, and wore a ribbon, probably of St. Lucifer.

“In soap, or shavings, or shoddy; what does it matter to you?  When can I have the money?”

“Never; not another sixpence.”

“Then I shall publish all I know.”

“No one will believe you.”

“I have proofs.”

“Which are forged.  I tell you I’m too strong for you:  you will find yourself in the wrong box.  I am sick of this; and I mean to put an end to your extortion.”

“You dare me.  You know the consequences.”

“The first consequence will be that I shall give you in charge.  Be off!”

“You shall have a week to think better of it.”

Gilly rang the bell.

“Shall I send for a policeman, or will you go?”

He went, muttering imprecations intermixed with threats; but Gilly Jillingham, quite proud of his courage, seemed for the moment callous to both.  He little dreamt how soon the latter would be put into effect.

Within a few days of this interview the greatest event of Mrs. Purling’s whole social career was due; she was to entertain royalty beneath her own roof.  This crowning of the edifice of her ambition filled her with solemn awe; the preparations for the coming ball were stupendous, her own magnificent costume seemed made up of diamonds and bullion and five-pound notes.

Long before the hour of reception she might have been seen pacing to and fro with stately splendour, contemplating the dais erected for royalty at one end of the room, and thinking with a glow of satisfaction that the representative of the Purlings had at last come to her own.  At this supreme moment she was grateful to dear Phillipa and to Gilbert little less dear.

Then guests began to pour in.  Where was Phillipa?  Very late; she might have dressed earlier.  A servant was sent to call her, and Phillipa, hurrying down, met Gilly on the upper floor coming out of Mrs. Purling’s bedroom.