“Tell me,” said Heriot quickly, “who is the child? What did she mean this morning by saying she was frightened?” He was not prepared for the look on Mrs. Erle’s face. “Frightened!” she stammered. “What of--did she say? Not of those horrible cats?” “If you mean jaguar cubs, she was playing with them. No; some one dumb, she said, who leered and mouthed at her--and I thought I saw a queer face myself, too!” Involuntarily Andria did the worst thing possible. “You were hurt and half-senseless,” she returned coolly. “You imagined you saw what the child romanced about.” But he had seen her dismayed and confounded face, and knew she lied. “That woman here!” he thought, as she left the room, shutting his eyes and seeing her as he had seen her in Raimond Erle’s house, covered with diamonds, surrounded by the worst men in town. “And with that innocent, fairy-tale sort of child and her queer pets. Why did she lie to me just now? And why are either of them here? This must be Flores or Corvo; one of the Azores, anyhow! And what is she about to let things frighten the girl?” The whole thing made him thoughtful. Were there only the governess and the girl--where were the master and mistress? Intuitively the man felt there was something wrong. With a resistless impulse to see at least where he was, he managed to drag himself over to the window. Through the half-open jalousy he saw a small, stone courtyard, strong as a prison, shaded by a high building from the sinking sun. And as he stared voices floated up to him. “Salome, she saw--you know something that jabbered at her! She told him. What shall we do?” “Why’d she tell him?” The second voice was richer, more guttural. “Oh, my glory, missus! Mr. Egerton----” and the rest was in a whisper. “I know. This man won’t help us, Salome!” “No! An’ if Mr. Egerton he come back and find him here, de onliest thing dat’ll happen is de Death Trap.” “What do you mean?” But the voice was not surprised, only appalled. “Pray he don’t find out. Best keep Miss Ber’l away from him. If she tells him things, an’ he sees--he’ll go out fur to fight! And you knows, missus,” earnestly, “he might have friends. Dey’d be coming round asking for him. Onless you kin trust him to help us?” with a searching accent that was an entreaty. “He’ll never help us. He’ll be against us, not for us,” bitterly. “You daren’t tell, Salome?” “Den if he won’t help us, de sooner he goes de better. I can’t tell. Ain’t nothin’ to me, one white man! An’ if Mr. Egerton finds people spyin’ round here, it’s de end of me, sure!” “He can’t hear anything up there?” “No! No more’n ’Melia Jane does. Onless little miss screams!” “She sha’n’t scream!” Heriot drew away from the window, but not so far that he did not see Andria Erle cross the courtyard with a light, quick step that went ill with the grim sound in her voice. CHAPTER XVIII. DOUBTING THOMAS. Mr. Heriot, to his disgust, was extremely ill after that rash journey to the window.