“Of course. You will have to prove that you gave Pelham the medicine, and that you remained in the dressing-room while he administered it to the boy. What is the matter with you to-night? Why do you hesitate and look so queer? If at the last moment you turn traitress, you shall——” The man did not finish the sentence, but there came a look into his eyes which caused Clara’s heart to sink. “I will fulfil my part of the bargain. I will keep my word,” she said at last slowly. “That’s right. Now you are returning to your senses.” “But you must also keep your part,” she continued. “The promises you made were these: I was to become your wife, and Sir Richard Pelham was to be unmolested for six months.” “I remember quite well that you made that a condition,” said Tarbot. “It always seemed to me an unnecessary and foolish one, but until to-night I never considered it carefully. Circumstances alter matters. In a case like this we cannot adhere strictly to a bargain. We are both in danger—in extreme danger—we have to fight, remember, for our lives.” “True,” she answered. She lowered her eyes, to raise them the next moment and fix them on her husband’s face. “Pelham must be arrested next week,” repeated Tarbot. “No, no, Luke! Not so soon.” “Clara, my word must be law in this matter. When our lives are in jeopardy we cannot afford to play the fool for a matter of mere sentiment. I tell you, if I do not have Pelham arrested he will turn the tables on me.” “He will not, for his fears will soon be over. His apprehensions will sink out of sight, he will go down to his property and be a happy man.” “What do you mean?” “If, Luke, I can quiet all Sir Richard Pelham’s suspicions, will you delay the evil moment?” “I don’t understand what you are talking about.” “Nor can I explain; but I think I shall succeed. Now go on—what will happen after Sir Richard has been before the magistrate?” “He will be remanded, in order that the Home Secretary may give an order for the exhumation of the child’s body.” Clara turned whiter than ever. She trembled all over. “What is the matter with you?” said her husband. “You are not the woman you were a few months ago. If I had known that I was really about to unite myself to such a vacillating, poor, weak—what is wrong?” “Nothing. I trembled because I suddenly thought of the ace of trumps.” “The ace of trumps! Good heavens! Are you mad?” “No, Luke, I am sane—quite sane. I only remembered that I hold the ace of trumps in my hand, and therefore I have no real cause for fear. You will be obliged to do what I wish. You must not have Sir Richard arrested next week—not for a month or two months.” “Let it be a bargain, then,” said Tarbot. “Provided Pelham does not go to extremities, provided his present suspicions are lulled to rest, I am willing to let the matter lie over until Christmas. Will that content you?” “It is better than nothing,” said Clara very slowly.