Inman had not forgotten, but it was his constant fate to be compelled by considerations of what was prudent in his own interests to defer the settlements from which he promised himself so much satisfaction. To hurt his wife and through her sufferings to cut her lover to the quick was one of the two absorbing passions that occupied his thoughts by day and night. But when he was about to strike, self-interest always held his arm. He had been sorely vexed that hitherto his threat to injure Jagger had come to naught; it humiliated him to think that his rival was laughing in his sleeve at the emptiness of the warning; but what could he do so long as the two passions were at variance? Nancy held the purse and the purse was deep. Until that had changed hands he was not master of the situation; revenge must be deferred. It may be questioned whether the prospect of vengeance does not afford as great satisfaction as its accomplishment; it is at any rate certain that Inman’s soul nourished itself upon foretastes and that the kindlier note in his voice was the traitorous servant of his ill-intent. There was a fire in the parlour and he took Nancy there, bidding Keturah get Baldwin off to bed. The baby was sleeping on the sofa, and Inman closed the door and stood with his back to the mantelpiece. “What the deuce made you tell Hannah about the money?” he began. “I should have expected you to have more sense.” “I didn’t; she told me!” Nancy looked up from her sewing to see what effect the denial had upon her husband. “She told you!” The voice was incredulous, yet in spite of himself he believed her, knowing that Nancy would never purchase pardon with a lie. “All the village knew it,” she repeated quietly. He stared at the head that was bent down again upon her work, and turned over this new information in his mind. “Then the devil must have been playing with the brass whilst I was at the ‘Royal’!” She said neither yes nor no, and his mouth tightened. He would have liked to seize her by the shoulders and shake her out of her cold complacency. The entire absence of any sense of fear, of any apprehension of danger, stung him almost beyond his power of endurance; but once again the stronger passion of greed held him in check. “Haven’t they found any clue?” Nancy asked, when there had been silence between them for some moments. “_They_ haven’t,” he answered suggestively. “They haven’t an idea between them. A set o’ wooden skittles, bowled over by any bungling prentice that tries his hand at burglary—that’s what _they_ are. What clue there is they won’t see when it’s pointed out to ’em. At any rate, that fool of a detective won’t.” “Then there _is_ a clue?” she asked, and the hot blood rushed to her cheeks the more violently when she tried to restrain it. Her quick wit told her that it was Jagger whom he suspected; and indignant words were not far from her lips when her husband spoke.