" again commanded her father.

She looked sadly at the white, bespectacled countenance which she loved
so well. Her soft hand once more sought his; but he cast it from him,
saying, "Enough of your caresses! You are no longer my daughter! Leave
us!" And then, seeing all protest in vain, she sighed, turned very
slowly, and with a last, lingering look upon the helpless man to whom
she had been so devoted, and who now so grossly misjudged her, she
tottered out, closing the door behind her.

"Has she gone?" asked Sir Henry a moment later.

Flockart responded in the affirmative, laying his hand upon the shoulder
of his agitated host, and urging him to remain calm.

"That's all very well, my dear Flockart," he cried; "but you don't know
what she has done. She exposed a week or so ago a most confidential
arrangement with the Greek Government, a revelation which might have
involved me in the loss of over a hundred thousand."

"Then it's fortunate, perhaps, that I discovered her to-night," replied
his guest. "All this must be very painful to you, Sir Henry."

"Very. I shall not give her another opportunity to betray me, Flockart,
depend upon that," the elder man said. "My wife warned me against
Gabrielle long ago. I now see that I was a fool for not taking her
advice."

"Certainly it's a curious fact that Walter Murie is in Paris," remarked
the other. "Was the revelation of your financial dealings made in Paris,
do you know?"

"Yes, it was," snapped the blind man. "I believed Walter to be quite a
good young fellow."

"Ah, I knew different, Sir Henry. His life up in London was not--well,
not exactly all that it should be. He's in with a rather shady crowd."

"You never told me so."

"Because you did not believe me to be your friend until quite recently.
I hope I have now proved what I have asserted. If I can do anything to
assist you I am only too ready. I assure you that you have only to
command me."

Sir Henry reflected deeply for a few moments. The discovery that his
daughter was playing him false caused within him a sudden revulsion of
feeling. Unfortunately, he could not see the expression upon the
countenance of his false friend. He was wondering at that moment whether
he might entrust to him a somewhat delicate mission.

"Gabrielle shall not return here," her father said, as though speaking
to himself.

"That is a course which I would most strongly advise. Send the girl
away," urged the other. "Evidently s