y lady," Dredlinton snarled.

"I can assure you that you are mistaken," was the calm reply. "You forget
that you were not quite yourself last night, and that you left the B. &
I. code book on the study table. Please listen, Mr. Wingate."

All the apparent good humour had faded from Phipps' face. He struck the
table with his fist.

"Dredlinton," he insisted, "you must use your authority. That message is
a private one. It must not be read."

Wingate moved to Josephine's side.

"Must not?" he repeated under his breath.

"It is a private message from a correspondent in New York, who is a
personal friend of Lord Dredlinton's," Phipps declared. "It is of no
concern to any one except ourselves. Dredlinton, you must make your wife
understand--"

"Understand?" Dredlinton broke in. "Give me that message, madam."

He snatched at it. Wingate leaned over and swung him on one side. For a
single moment Phipps, too, seemed about to attempt force. Then, with an
ugly little laugh, he recovered himself.

"My dear Lady Dredlinton, let me reason with you," he begged. "On this
occasion Mr. Wingate is in opposition to our interests, your husband's
and mine. You cannot--"

"Let Lady Dredlinton read the cable," Wingate interposed.

It was done before any further interference was possible. Wingate stood
at her side, grim and threatening. The words had left her lips before
either of the other men could shout her down.

"It is a night message from New York," she said. "Listen: 'Confirm eleven
steamers Universal Line withdrawn Japan trade loading secretly huge wheat
cargo for Liverpool. Confirm John Wingate, Milan Court, holds controlling
influence. Advise buy his shares any price.'"

There was a moment's intense silence. Dredlinton opened his lips and
closed them again. Phipps was exhibiting remarkable self-control. His
tone, as he addressed Wingate, was grave but almost natural.

"Under these circumstances, do you wish to repudiate your bargain?" he
asked. "We must at least know where we are."

Wingate turned to Josephine.

"The matter," he decided, "is not in my hands. Lady Dredlinton," he went
on, "the person who opened the door of my sitting room last night was
Miss Flossie Lane, a musical comedy actress sent there by your husband,
who had followed you to the Milan. Your husband imagines that because you
were in my apartments at such an unusual hour, he has cause for a
divorce. That I do not believe, but, to save proceedings