ain. Had Flockart spoken the
truth? The serious face of the man she loved so well rose before her
blurred vision. She had been his--his very own--until she had sent off
that fateful letter.

In five minutes Flockart had again overtaken her. His attitude was
appealing. He urged her to at least see her lover again even if she
refused to write or return to her father.

"Why do you come here to taunt me like this?" she cried, turning upon
him angrily. "Once, because you were my mother's friend, I believed in
you. But you deceived me, and in consequence you hold me in your power.
Were it not for that I could have spoken to my father--have told him the
truth and cleared myself. He now believes that I have betrayed his
business secrets, while at the same time he considers you to be his
friend!"

"I am his friend, Gabrielle," the man declared.

"Why tell me such a lie?" she asked reproachfully. "Do you think I too
am blind?"

"Certainly not. I give you credit for being quite as clever and as
intelligent as you are dainty and charming. I----"

"Thank you!" she cried in indignation. "I require no compliments from
you."

"Lady Heyburn has expressed a wish to see you," he said. "She is still
in San Remo, and asked me to invite you to go down there for a few
weeks. Your aunt has written her, I think, complaining that you are not
very comfortable at Woodnewton."

"I have not complained. Why should Aunt Emily complain of me? You seem
to be the bearer of messages from the whole of my family, Mr. Flockart."

"I am here entirely in your own interests, my dear child," he declared
with that patronising air which so irritated her.

"Not entirely, I think," she said, smiling bitterly.

"I tell you, I much regret all that has happened, and----"

"You regret!" she cried fiercely. "Do you regret the end of that
woman--you know whom I mean?"

Beneath her straight glance he quivered. She had referred to a subject
which he fain would have buried for ever. This dainty neat-waisted girl
knew a terrible secret. Was it not only too true, as Lady Heyburn had
vaguely suggested a dozen times, that her mouth ought to be effectually
sealed?

He had sealed it once, as he thought. Her fear to explain to her father
the incident of the opening of the safe had given him confidence that no
word of the truth regarding the past would ever pass her lips. Yet he
saw that his own machinations were now likely to prove his undoing. The
web which, wit