“‘We are going to the Court next week, and he visits us there. Then I shall commence my operations.’ “‘What amount of damages shall you go in for?’ “‘I shall ask twenty thousand and get five or ten; then we can pay those wretched bills and can have enough to float us once more.’ “There was silence some minutes, then Captain Pierrepont said: “‘It seems rather hard on her. If we could but manage it in any other way.’ “‘There is no other way; sentimental pity will not help us. After all, what does it matter? Those kinds of things happen every day.’ “‘It seems like murder,’ said the captain, slowly. “‘Not at all,’ replied my husband, cheerfully. ‘If you read the papers you would see such things happen every day.’ “‘But she is quite innocent.’ “‘Bah! who is innocent? You are sentimental, and you will find that sentiment does not pay.’ “‘Well,’ said the other, rising, ‘I wish you success. I am at your service, remember, for anything you may require.’ “They left the drawing-room together, and I sat silent among the mignonette and scarlet verbenas--not suspicious of any wrong--wondering what so strange a conversation might mean, yet never suspecting its true purport for one moment. “I declare to Heaven,” she continued, passionately, “that even the pain of telling you these things is so great I would almost die sooner than repeat them. Judge, then, whether I was guilty or not.” CHAPTER XLII. A FIENDISH ACCUSATION. “Once or twice after that,” continued Lady Pelham, “I noticed a strange man following me; he was not a gentleman; of that I was quite sure, neither did he appear to be paying any attention to me, yet I had a sure and instinctive idea that he was watching me. “Once I had gone to walk in Kensington Gardens, a favorite resort of mine, and there, quite accidentally, I met the Duke of Launceston; he walked with me for perhaps five minutes; then bade me adieu. As soon as he left me I saw the strange man looking earnestly at us both. Another day, by the purest chance, I had gone into the park, and there the Duke of Launceston met me again. I did not exchange twelve words with him, but as he went away I saw the ill-omened face of the man whom I felt sure watched me. I said to my husband one morning: “‘Alfred, whenever I go out I see a strange man, who appears to follow me and watch me; the next time he does it I shall call a policeman and give him in charge.’ “My husband laughed aloud. “‘What nonsense, Juliet,’ he said, sharply. ‘Remember, you are not in Spain now; this is the land of common sense, not romance. Do not make yourself ridiculous, I beg.’ “It was the first time he had spoken sharply to me, and my eyes filled with tears. The only change was that the man I had noticed vanished, but another appeared in his place.