"Everything," replied her tormentor. "The details of the plot he has known for some time, being stationed here by the Legation to watch the Colonel--but it was not till Darcy was brought to book this morning, and in order to save himself, signed a written confession, that he really knew the extent to which _you_ were incriminated." She burst into tears. Kent-Lauriston proceeded unconcernedly with his story. "The Colonel's chivalry is not of such a nature as would cause him to hesitate in shifting all the responsibility he could, on the shoulders of a woman." She dried her tears at that, and her eyes fairly snapped. "The fact," resumed Kent-Lauriston, "that Stanley had on several occasions tried to help you to clear yourself, and the fact that you'd persistently--well--not done so--made matters all the worse. In short, on these two counts alone, you had given evidence of an amount of deceit and cold-blooded calculation that completely upset even such an optimist as he. Still, I think he would have overlooked it, if properly managed--if that had been the worst." "Can anything be worse?" "Yes, for this last charge against you is not true." "Go on." "You placed yourself in Darcy's power. A clever woman, a really clever woman, my dear Miss Fitzgerald, would not have done that. It would be easy for him to manufacture circumstantial evidence, to back any lie he might choose to exploit, to your discredit. Say, for instance, that you were the prime mover in this plot, and that you went into it for a financial consideration, for three thousand pounds." "But Bob never would----" "Wouldn't he, when he was thirsting for revenge, believing that your careless threat against Lieutenant Kingsland had ruined his hopes." "Did he do this?" "He did, and that is why I'm here this morning in Mr. Stanley's place--commissioned to return to you your letters," and he handed her the packet. "It's not true!" she cried. "Before Heaven, Mr. Kent-Lauriston, it is not true!" "I know it's not true, for Darcy's confessed to me." "But Mr. Stanley does not know." "No." "Then he must be told." "If you tell him he'll fling prudence to the winds in an agony of remorse, and you'll have won the game." "You mean he'll keep to his engagement?" "I mean he'll marry you." "And you dare to ask any woman to allow such a slander to live when she can deny it?" "I ask you, for your own sake, for the reasons I've stated, for your future happiness, and as an escape from certain misery--to let him go." "I tell you I love him." "Then I ask you for _his_ sake. A brilliant diplomatic career is just opening before him, as the result of the discovery of this plot. Is his government likely to repose confidence in him in the future, with you as his wife--a woman who has practised treason? His father would never receive you, and might disinherit him. Do you love this man so little that you wish to ruin him?" "I tell you I love him--you do not understand."