y know whether I ought
to speak of it.'

Alma looked an interrogation as unconcerned as she could make it, but
did not open her lips.

'It was with reference to--your man of business. It seems he has heard
something--I really don't know what--not quite favourable to Mr. Dymes.
I shall not offend you, dear?'

'I don't take offence, Mrs. Strangeways,' Alma answered, with a slight
laugh to cover her uneasiness. 'It's so old-fashioned.'

The hostess uttered a thin trill of merriment.

'One is always safe with people who have humour, dear. It _does_ make
life easier, doesn't it? Oh, the terrible persons who take everything
with tragic airs! Well, there's not a bit of harm in it. Between
ourselves, it struck me that our friend was just a little inclined to
be--yes, you understand.'

'I'm afraid I don't.'

'I hate the word--well, just a trifle jealous.'

Alma leaned back in her chair, glanced about her, and said nothing.

'Of course, he would never allow _you_ to suspect anything of the kind.
It will make no difference. You can count upon his utmost efforts. But
when one thinks how very much he has it in his power to do----. That
bit of writing in the _West End_, you know--only the highest influence
can command that kind of thing. The _West End_ can't be bought, I
assure you. And one has to think of the future. A good beginning is
much, but how many musicians are able to follow it up? My dear Alma,
let me implore you not to imagine that you will be able to dispense
with this kind of help.'

'Do you mean that Mr. Redgrave is likely to withdraw it?'

'Impossible for me to say, dear. I am only telling you how his
conversation struck me. He appeared to think--to be apprehensive that
you might in future look to Mr. Dymes rather than to him. Of course, I
could say nothing--I would not venture a syllable.'

'Of course not,' Alma murmured mechanically, her eyes wandering.

'Are you likely, I wonder, to see him in the next few days?'

'I hardly know--I think not.'

'Then let me--will you?--let me contrive a _chance_ meeting here.'

Loathing herself, and burning with hatred of the woman, in whose hands
she felt powerless, Alma gave an assenting nod.

'I am sure it will be a measure of prudence, dear. I thought possibly
you might be seeing him at Mrs. Carnaby's. He is there sometimes, I
believe?'

Alma looked at the speaker, detecting some special significance in her
inquiry. She replied that Redgrave of course cal