resentment and scorn. He knew
the quick flash of those eyes, he had seen it before on other occasions.
This was not the first time they had quarrelled, yet he, keen-witted and
cunning, had always held her powerless to elude him, had always
compelled her to give him the sums he so constantly demanded. That
morning, however, she was distinctly resentful, distinctly defiant.

For an instant he turned from her, biting his lip in annoyance. When
facing her again, he smiled, asking, "Tell me, Winnie, what does all
this mean?"

"Mean!" echoed the Baronet's wife. "Mean! How can you ask me that
question? Look at me--a ruined woman! And you----"

"Speak out!" he cried. "What has happened?"

"You surely know what has happened. You have treated me like the cur you
are--and that is speaking plainly. You've sacrificed me in order to save
yourself."

"From what?"

"From exposure. To me, ruin is not a matter of days, but of hours."

"You're speaking in enigmas. I don't understand you," he cried
impatiently. "Krail and I have at last been successful. We know now the
true source of your husband's huge income, and in order to prevent
exposure he must pay--and pay us well too."

"Yes," she laughed hysterically. "You tell me all this after you've
blundered."

"Blundered! How?" he asked, surprised at her demeanour.

"What's the use of beating about the bush?" asked her ladyship. "The
girl is back at Glencardine. She knows everything, thanks to your
foolish self-confidence."

"Back at Glencardine!" gasped Flockart. "But she dare not speak. By
heaven! if she does--then--then--"

"And what, pray, can you do?" inquired the woman harshly. "It is I who
have to suffer, I who am crushed, humiliated, ruined, while you and your
precious friend shield yourselves behind your cloaks of honesty. You are
Sir Henry's friend. He believes you as such--you!" And she laughed the
hollow laugh of a woman who was staring death in the face. She was
haggard and drawn, and her hands trembled with nervousness which she
strove in vain to repress. Lady Heyburn was desperate.

"He still believes in me, eh?" asked the man, thinking deeply, for his
clever brain was already active to devise some means of escape from what
appeared to be a distinctly awkward dilemma. He had never calculated the
chances of Gabrielle's return to her father's side. He had believed that
impossible.

"I understand that my husband will hear no word against you," replied
the tall