ean to inherit Mrs.
Aylmer's property, either as the heiress in my own person or as the wife
of Maurice Trevor. It is true that I am older than he, but I have three
times his sense: I can manage him if another girl does not interfere. He
must leave here immediately. I must make some excuse. His mother is not
quite so quixotic as he is; I must manage things through her. One thing,
at least, I am resolved on: he must not hear the story of Florence--at
least, not through Florence herself: he must not meet her again, and
Mrs. Aylmer must not tell him the story of what occurred at Cherry Court
School."

Bertha thought a very long time.

"If he really falls in love with Florence, then he must no longer be
Mrs. Aylmer's heir," she said to herself; "but he shall not meet her. I
like him: I want him for myself; when the time comes, I will marry him.
He shall not marry another woman and inherit all Mrs. Aylmer's
property."

Bertha stayed up for some time. It was between two and three in the
morning when at last she laid her head on her pillow. She had gone
through an exciting and even a dangerous day, but that did not prevent
her sleeping soundly. Early in the morning, however, she rose. She was
dressed before seven o'clock, and waited anxiously for eight o'clock,
the time when she might send off a telegram. She procured a telegraph
form and carefully filled it in. These were the words she wrote:--

"Make some excuse to summon Maurice to London at once. Must go.
Will explain to you when writing. Do not let Maurice know that
I have telegraphed.--BERTHA KEYS."

This telegram was addressed to Mrs. Trevor, Rose View, 10 St. Martin's
Terrace, Hampstead. Punctually as the clock struck eight, Bertha was
standing at the telegraph-office; it was so early that she knew the line
would be more or less clear. She sent off her telegram and returned with
a good appetite to breakfast.

At about ten o'clock a telegram arrived for Trevor. He was eating his
breakfast in his usual lazy fashion, and was inwardly wondering if he
could see Florence again: if he could lead up to the subject of the
school where she had suffered disgrace: and if she herself would explain
to him that which was making him far more uncomfortable than the
occasion warranted.

"A telegram for you," said Bertha, handing him the little yellow
envelope. He opened it, and his face turned pale.

"How queer!" he said; "this is from mother; she wants me to co