It has been remarked before that this good-hearted, level-headed woman had one particular weakness, a tendency to indulge in stimulants. This habit, much to her friend’s regret, had tended to increase as she grew older. She did not allow it to interfere with her business, she was too sensible for that, she could always pull herself up in time. But sometimes when she was “resting” or had a night off, she would give way to her fatal propensity and talk and gabble very foolishly. Once or twice Mrs. Morrice had seen her slightly overcome in the day-time, and the sorry spectacle had very much upset and disgusted her. Little did she think, as she saw her old friend so unlike herself, that this degrading habit would one day be a cause of misfortune to herself. One morning she received an urgent note from Alma to meet her at a certain out-of-the-way restaurant which they patronized. When Mrs. Morrice arrived there she found her friend in a state of great agitation, almost hysterical, in fact she could hardly get her words out, and she spoke very incoherently in her emotion. “Oh, Lettice, I wish my tongue had been cut out before I let out what I did last night. I hope to heaven it will do you no harm. I had been dining out with Sir George, and then we came back to my flat. We had had quite enough to drink at dinner, but of course we had some more there. I had one of my silly fits on and I didn’t know at the time what I did or said. But I remembered it all distinctly this morning, and I rushed off to tell you.” Mrs. Morrice turned pale; from the extreme agitation of her friend she had a presentiment of disaster which was not lessened by the recital of the story which the unhappy Alma had to unfold. CHAPTER XXVIII BLACKMAILED! It was a very rambling statement, but certain plain facts emerged from it. Sir George had now become a regular habitué of Miss Buckley’s flat, and they were constantly in each other’s society, lunching and dining together, going to theatres when her engagements permitted her to have an evening to herself. Several times he had come across young Graham, to whom he seemed to take a very great fancy, and was very curious about him. On this particular evening he had put some leading questions on the subject, and Alma in her confused state had thrown her usual caution to the winds and blurted out the youngster’s real name, and, worst of all, had let drop the fact that his father, Graham Darcy, had come into conflict with the law. Mrs. Morrice was naturally much annoyed at her friend’s indiscretion, due to her having lost control of herself. But Alma’s contrition was so genuine, her contempt for herself so bitter, that she did not like to show her annoyance too plainly.