ere idea
of the finer feelings--he believed that every man has his price--and
that honesty and honour are things useful as terms but of no real
existence. And now he was wondering--really wondering--if this girl
meant the things she said: if she really felt a mental loathing of such
minds and purposes as he knew his own were, or if it were merely acting
on her part. Before he could speak she turned on him again more fiercely
than before.

"Shall I tell you something else in plain language?" she asked. "You
evidently possess a very small and limited knowledge--if you have any at
all!--of women, and you apparently don't rate their mental qualities at
any high standard. Let me tell you that I am not quite such a fool as
you seem to think me! You came here this afternoon to bargain with me!
You happen to know how much I respect my guardian and what I owe him
for the care he has taken of me and my brother. You thought to trade on
that! You thought you could make a bargain with me; you were to save Dr.
Ransford, and for reward you were to have me! You daren't deny it. Dr.
Bryce--I can see through you!"

"I never said it, at any rate," answered Bryce.

"Once more, I say, I'm not a fool!" exclaimed Mary. "I saw through you
all along. And you've failed! I'm not in the least frightened by what
you've said. If the police arrest Dr. Ransford, Dr. Ransford knows how
to defend himself. And you're not afraid for him! You know you aren't.
It wouldn't matter twopence to you if he were hanged tomorrow, for you
hate him. But look to yourself! Men who cheat, and scheme, and plot, and
plan as you do come to bad ends. Mind yours! Mind the wheel doesn't come
full circle. And now, if you please, go away and don't dare to come near
me again!"

Bryce made no answer. He had listened, with an attempt at a smile, to
all this fiery indignation, but as Mary spoke the last words he was
suddenly aware of something that drew his attention from her and them.
Through an opening in Ransford's garden hedge he could see the garden
door of the Folliots' house across the Close. And at that moment out of
it emerge Folliot himself in conversation with Glassdale!

Without a word, Bryce snatched up his hat from the table of the
summer-house, and went swiftly away--a new scheme, a new idea in his
mind.

CHAPTER XXIV. FINESSE

Glassdale, journeying into Wrychester half an hour after Bryce had left
him at the Saxonsteade Arms, occupied himself during