him." So, until the entrance of the policeman, the two men
stood and glared at each other.

"You can save yourself," said the count, "if you will confess what you
came for, and if you will write that confession down."

Basil smiled contemptuously. "Of what do you charge me?" he said.

"I shall charge you with stealing my watch and ring," was the reply.

"Knowing I am innocent?"

"The alternative lies before you. Confess, as I have said, and Lady
Amelie suffers; deny, and you go to prison for stealing."

It seemed to him far easier. "I will go to prison," he thought, "I can
give a false name; no one will know me. There will be no fuss, no stir,
nothing known, and she, my queen, will be saved."

Of course there was no common sense in such a proceeding, nothing but
enthusiasm and romance. He certainly had not calculated upon the fact
being known. He had really believed the false name would shield him. He
found means through a heavy bribe to send one word to Lady Amelie; it
was merely the word, "Destroyed.--B.C." But it gave the queen of
coquettes a sense of security she had not enjoyed for long. While Basil
still lay in prison, Count Jules sought her.

"You have baffled me, my lady," he said.

"Yes," was the calm reply, "I have checkmated you, count. You will
extort no more money from me, nor will you threaten me again."

"Well," said the count, "I confess myself beaten, and I am not a good
man, either, my Lady Amelie, but sooner than have blighted that young
man's life, as you have done, I would have suffered anything."

"My dear count," said Lady Amelie, philosophically, "some men seem, by
fate and by nature, destined to be used as a cat's-paw."

Count Jules was baffled; his only hold upon the rich and beautiful Lady
Amelie was broken. What those letters contained was known only to the
lady and himself. If simply the written expressions of her own
unhappiness, he placed more value on them than they were worth. The
chances are that they held more than that.

He was entirely defeated--they had been his last resources for long. He
had never failed, by means of them, to extort money from Lady Lisle at
pleasure. It was useless to threaten any more. She had but to dare him
to bring forth his proofs, and he had not one word to say.

His only consolation was, that in revenge, he had completely blighted
the young hero's life, for hero he was, although his heroism was of a
mistaken kind.

And Lady Amelie--did she