which he would be able to present himself in the light of an
innocent seaman, who, forced to witness the commission of a crime,
had lost no time to communicate to the authorities the knowledge of
that crime."

"There is something in what you say. But in that case it would have
been necessary for him to inform the police months ago."

"Very well; and why may he not?"

"He may have; but it strikes me that he would be more inclined to
work the thing up himself; for in that case, if he succeeded, the
prize would be all his own."

Some further discussion followed, and then Hilda asked:

"I suppose, by the way you speak, that you saw nothing more of them?"

"No."

"You were not tracked?"

"No."

"Where did you go after leaving the hotel?"

"I left London that evening for Southampton, and then I went west to
Bristol; after that to Chetwynde. I staid at Chetwynde till I got
your note."

"Did you not see any thing in any of the papers which might lead to
the suspicion that you were sought after, or that any thing was being
done?"

"No, nothing whatever."

"If any thing is going on, then, it must be in secret."

"Yes; and then, you know, in a country like England it is impossible
for the police to work so comprehensively or so efficiently as they
do on the Continent--in France, for instance."

"I wonder if the French police are at work?"

"How could they be?"

"I hardly know, unless Black Bill has really informed the London
police, and they have communicated to the authorities in France. Of
course it all depends on him. The others can have done nothing. He
alone is the man from whom any danger could possibly arise. His
steady perseverance has a dangerous look, and it is difficult to tell
what may come of it yet."

After some further conversation Hilda proceeded to give Gualtier a
general idea of the circumstances which had taken place since they
parted at Lausanne. Her account was brief and meagre, since she did
not wish to say more than was absolutely necessary. From what she
said Gualtier gathered this, however--that Lord Chetwynde had
continued to be indifferent to Hilda, and he conjectured that his
indifference had grown into something like hostility. He learned,
moreover, most plainly that Hilda suspected him of an intrigue with
another woman, of whom she was bitterly jealous, and it was on this
rival whom she hated that she desired that vengeance for which she
had summoned him. This much he heard w