obar.

"Does Hillyard know that I am at Midhurst?" he asked sharply.

"No," Joan answered.

There was something which Hillyard had told her about Mario Escobar,
something which she had rejected and dismissed altogether from her
thoughts. Then she remembered. Escobar was an enemy working in England
against England. She had given the statement no weight whatever. It was
the sort of thing people said of unconventional people they disliked in
order to send them to Coventry. But Escobar's start and Escobar's
question put a different value upon it. Joan caught at it. Of what use
could it be to her? Of some use, surely, if only she had the wit to
divine it. But she was in such a disorder of fear and doubt that every
idea went whirling about and about in her mind. She raised her hand to
her forehead, keeping her eyes upon Escobar. She felt as helpless as a
child. Almost she regretted the love which had so violently mastered
her. It had made clear to her her ignorance and so stripped her of all
assurance and left her defenceless.

But even in the tumult of her thoughts, she began to recognise a change.
The air was less charged with terror. There was less of passion and
anger in Mario Escobar, and more of speculation. He watched her in a
gloomy silence, and each moment she took fresh heart. With a swift
movement he seated himself on the couch beside her.

Joan sprang up with a little cry, and her heart thumping in her breast.

"Hush!" said Escobar. Yes, it was now he who pleaded for secrecy and a
quiet voice.

There was a stronger passion in Mario than the love of women, and that
was the love of money. Women were to him mainly the means to money. They
were easier to get, too, if you were not over particular. Money was a
rare, shy thing, except to an amazing few who accumulated it by some
obscure, magnetic attraction; and opportunities of acquisition were not
to be missed.

"Hush!" he said. "You treated me badly, Joan. It was right that I should
teach you a lesson--frighten you a little, eh?"

He smiled at her with eyes half closed and eyelids cunningly blinking.
Now that her fears were weakening Joan found his impertinence almost
insufferable. But she held her tongue and waited.

"But you owe me a return, don't you?"

Joan did not move.

"A little return--which will cost you nothing at all. You know that I
represent a line of ships. You can help me. We have rivals, with active
agents. You shall find out for me exac