Then, as Jack's heavy step faded away and was lost, Stephen went back into the room, closed the door, and sinking into a chair sat motionless, with folded arms and haggard face. "Yes, yes," he muttered, "I have played the best game--I have gulled him. Another man would have attempted to thwart him openly, and have raised a storm. My plan is the wiser. But to think that fate should have played me such a trick! and I thought she was safe and secure!" and he wiped the drops of cold sweat from his knitted brow. "Fool, fool that I was! Better to have left her there in the heart of the Forest! And yet--and yet--" he mused, "it is not so bad. The man might have been more powerful and cunning than the idiot whom I have in the hollow of my hand. Curse him! curse him! I never look on his face but I tremble. I hate him!" and he stretched out his closed hand as if with a curse. As he did so it came into contact with Jack's glass. In a paroxysm of fury he caught up the glass and dashed it into the fire-place. It relieved and brought him to his senses. With a gesture of self-contempt he rose and rang the bell. Slummers stole in with his noiseless step and stood beside the table with downcast eyes, which, nevertheless, had taken in the broken tumbler. "I've broken a glass, Slummers," said Stephen, with affected carelessness. "Never mind, leave it till the morning. Now, then, what have you learned?" Slummers cleared his throat, and barely opening his thin lips, replied: "A great deal, considering the time, sir. The young lady at Mrs. Davenant's----" "I know all about her," said Stephen, breaking in impatiently. "What about Mr. Newcombe?" Nowise embarrassed, Slummers wiped his dry lips with a handkerchief as spotless as his master's. "It is as you expected, sir. Mr. Newcombe is in difficulties." "Ah!" said Stephen, with evident satisfaction. "He has been playing and giving paper. There are some old bills out, too. These are in the hands of Moss the money-lender." Stephen nodded and rubbed his hands. "I know Moss--a hard man. Go on." "But they say," continued Slummers, raising his eyes for a moment to his master's face, "that Mr. Newcombe is going to set things right by marrying an heiress." Stephen smiled and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, they do, do they; and who is this most fortunate young lady?" "Lady Isabel Earlsley." Stephen started forward. "What!" "Lady Isabel Earlsley," repeated Slummers, without the slightest change of voice or countenance. "No--it's a lie!" said Stephen, with a chuckle. "Where did you hear it?" "At the club. It is the talk of town, sir. Mr. Newcombe has been in close attendance upon her ladyship for some time. They say that her ladyship's brougham nearly ran over him, and that she took him home. It is true; her own coachman told me." Stephen leaned back and hid his face with his hand, his busy brain at work on this last turn of the wheel. "Go on," he said. "That is all, sir."