ternal fire were burning up the dried and
wizened features, and could only find an outlet through the eyes.
Rapidly she had passed up and down, and sometimes as she came nearer the
wall Edmund saw her flash angry glances, and sometimes sarcastic
glances, while her lips moved rapidly, and her very small gloved hand
clenched and unclenched.

At last a noise in the deserted road behind him, the growing rumbling of
a cart, made him think it safer to move, even at the risk of a little
sound in doing so. He reached the ground safely before he could be seen,
and proceeded to brush the brick-dust off the torn knees of his grey
trousers.

He walked down the hill into the town with an air of finality, for he
had determined to go back to England. He could not have analysed his
impressions; he could not have accounted for his sense of impotence and
defeat, but so it was. He had come across the personality of Madame
Danterre, and he thereupon left her in possession of the field. But at
the same time, before leaving Florence, he gave largely of the sinews of
war to that able spy, the Italian detective, Pietrino.

CHAPTER V

"YOUR MOTHER'S DAUGHTER"

The surprising disposal of Sir David Bright's fortune was to have very
important consequences in a quiet household among the Malcot hills, of
the existence of which Sir Edmund Grosse and Lady Rose Bright were
entirely unaware.

In a small wind-swept wood that appeared to be seeking shelter in the
hollow under the great massive curve of a green hill, there stood one of
those English country houses that must have been planned, built, and
finished with the sole object of obtaining coolness and shade. The
principal living rooms looked north, and the staircase and a minute
study were the only spots that ever received any direct rays of the sun.
All the rooms except this favoured little study had windows opening to
the ground, and immediately outside grew the rich mossy turf that
indicates a clay soil. The mistress of the house was not easily daunted
by her surroundings, and she had impressed her cheerful, comfortable,
and fairly cultured mind on all the rooms. Mrs. Carteret was the widow
of a Colonel Carteret, who had retired from the army to farm his own
acres, and take his place in local politics. It is needless to say that,
while the politics had gained from the help of an upright and
chivalrous, if narrow, mind, the acres had profited little from his
attentions. When he die