was. She wasn't seen much, only talked about. She's a clever woman, and
by the time Carnaby's let loose she'll have played the game so well
that things will be made pretty soft for him. I'm told he's a bit of a
globe-trotter, sportsman, and so on. All he has to do is to knock up a
book of travels, and it'll go like wildfire.'

Alma had pulled to pieces a tassel on her chair.

'What has all this to do with me?' she asked abruptly.

'I'm coming to that. You don't know anything about Mrs. Strangeways
either? Well, there _may_ be a doubt about Mrs. Carnaby, but there's
none about Mrs. S. She's just about as bad as they make 'em. I could
tell you things--but I won't. What I want to know is, did you quarrel
with her?'

'Quarrel! Why should we have quarrelled? What had I to do with her?'

'Nothing about Redgrave?' asked Dymes, pushing his head forward and
speaking confidentially.

'What do you mean?'

'No harm, I assure you--all the other way. I _know_ Mrs. Strangeways,
and I've had a good deal of talk with her lately, and I couldn't help
suspecting you had a reason of your own for getting clear of her. Let
me tell you, first of all, that she's left her house in Porchester
Terrace. My belief is that she and her husband haven't a five-pound
note between them. And the queer thing is, that this has come about
since Redgrave's death.'

He paused to give his words their full significance. Alma, no longer
disguising her interest, faced him with searching eyes.

'She's a bad un,' pursued the musician, 'and I shouldn't care to tell
all I think about her life for the last few years. I've seen a good
deal of life myself, you know, and I don't pretend to be squeamish; but
I draw a line for women. Mrs. Strangeways goes a good bit beyond it, as
I know for certain.'

'What is it to _me_?' said Alma, with tremulous impatience.

'Why, this much. She is doing her best to harm you, and in a devilish
artful way. She tries to make _me_ believe--and it's certain she says
the same to others--that what happened at Wimbledon was _the result of
a plot between you and Redgrave's housekeeper_!'

Alma stared at him, her parted lips quivering with an abortive laugh.

'Do you understand? She says that you were furiously jealous of Mrs
Carnaby, and didn't care what you did to ruin her; that you put
Redgrave's housekeeper up to telling Carnaby lies about his wife.'

'How long has she been saying this?'

'I heard it for the first time abou