repared to guard faithfully, since--apparently--it is of
value, if you on your part are ready to purchase my discretion with that
of which all have need, but of which I temporarily am unhappily
deficient. Briefly, madame, for the sum of five hundred pounds I will
undertake that the episode of Valpre shall be consigned to oblivion so
far as I am concerned. Otherwise, the strict husband may hear more than
you have considered it convenient to tell him.

"Yours, with many compliments,
GUILLAUME RODOLPHE."

CHAPTER X

A WARNING VOICE

Five hundred pounds! Five hundred pounds! It represented her year's
income to Chris.

All night long she lay wide-eyed and still, facing her problem with a
quaking heart. It was like a suffocating weight upon her, crushing her
down. Five hundred pounds! And the need thereof so urgent that it must be
dealt with at once! But how to obtain it? How? How?

All through the dark hours she lay revolving the matter, questioning this
way and that, bound hand and foot, yet not daring to contemplate the only
sane means at her disposal of obtaining freedom. To tell her husband the
simple truth, to throw herself unreservedly upon his generosity, to beg
his forgiveness and his help--these were the things she could not do. As
a matter of fact the truth had been so magnified by her fevered fancy
that it had begun to appear monstrous even in her own eyes. Those far-off
happenings at Valpre had become a dream with a nightmare ending. Not even
Aunt Philippa could have distorted them to a more exaggerated semblance
of evil. And to go to her husband now with such a story was utterly
beyond Chris's powers of accomplishment. She lacked the courage to speak
with simplicity and candour, and she was painfully aware that to give a
halting account of the matter would be infinitely more dangerous than to
keep silence. Already her husband's faith in her veracity had been
shaken. Was it likely that he would accept unquestioning her assurance
that this matter, which she had rigorously suppressed for so long and
which she only imparted to him now under compulsion, was in reality one
of trivial importance? Would he believe her? Had she ever fostered his
belief in her? Could he in reason do so even if he desired?

Moreover, there was another obstacle. There was Bertrand. Though he had
offered to speak for her, though he had desired to explain all, and
though she knew that Trevor's faith in him was absolute, yet th