s married. Then I thought of
the great judge, my lover. He would know how to send Pierre away, for
Pierre would be frightened of him. But Sir Horace was in Scotland,
shooting the poor birds. But I wrote to him and asked him for my sake to
come at once, because I was in distress and needed help. Monsieur, he
came--but he came to his death. He sent me a letter to meet him at
Riversbrook at half-past ten o'clock. He was sorry it was so late, but
he thought it would be safer not to come to the house till after dark in
the long summer evening, for people were so censorious. I was to tell
Madame Holymead that I was going to the theatre with a friend.

"I was so pleased to think that I would get rid of Pierre, that on the
morning, when he stopped me to ask me again about the money, I showed him
the letter of the great judge, and told him I would make the judge put
him in prison if he did not go away and leave me alone. 'He is your
lover,' said Pierre. 'I will kill him.' But I laughed, for I knew Pierre
did not care if I had many lovers. I said to him, 'Pierre, you would
extort the money'--blackmail, the English call it, do they not, Monsieur
Crewe?--'but you would not kill. Sir Horace is not afraid of you. If you
go near him he would have you taken off to gaol,' But Pierre he was deep
in thought. Several times he said, 'I want money,' Each time I said to
him, 'Then you must work for it,' 'That is no way to get money,' he
answered. 'This great judge, he has much money, is it not so?'

"I left him, monsieur, thinking of money. But I did not know how bad his
thoughts were. I returned home, and I told Madame Holymead I would go to
the theatre that night. I left the house at eight o'clock, and after
walking along Piccadilly and Regent Street took the train to Hampstead.
Then I walked up to the house of Sir Horace so as not to be too early.
The gate was open and I thought that strange, but I had no thought of
murder. As I walked up the garden I heard a shot--two shots--and then a
cry, and the sound of something falling on the floor. The door of the
house was open, and the light was burning in the hall. Upstairs I heard
the noise of footsteps--quick footsteps--and then I heard them coming
down the staircase. I was afraid, and I hid myself behind the curtains in
the hall. The footsteps came down, and nearer and nearer, and when they
passed me I looked out to see. Monsieur, it was Pierre. I called to him
softly, 'Pierre, Pierre!' He lo