“It's something about John Risca,” said the woman with the thin lips. Stella put her hand to her heart. “John--Mr. Risca? What is the matter? Has anything happened to him?” “Oh, he's in perfect health. Don't be alarmed. I only don't want us to be interrupted by Sir Oliver or Lady Blount. Do come with me. I assure you it's something quite important.” She moved in the direction of the lone path, and Stella, drawn against her will, followed. They, reached the seat. Below sank sheer cliff to the rocks on the shore. Above sheer cliff rose to the crest on which stood the Channel House. The sea sparkled in the sunshine. In the far distance a great steamer, her two funnels plumed with gray, sped majestically down Channel. The woman looked about her with nervous swiftness. They were out of sight of human creature. Then she turned, and the cold face changed, and Stella shrank from its sudden malignity. The woman clutched the girl by her arm. “Now, my lady, do you know who I am?” “No,” said Stella, shrinking back terrified, and striving to wrench herself free. “I am John Risca's wife.” Stella looked at her for an agonized moment, then, as white as paper, collapsed on the seat, the woman still gripping her arm. “John--married--you--his wife!” she stammered incoherently. Louisa Risca bent down and scrutinized the white face. “Do you mean to say you did n't know?” Stella shook her head in frightened negation. Her ignorance was obvious, even to the criminal woman now on the point of carrying out the fixed idea of years. Gradually the grasp on her arm relaxed, and the woman stood upright. “You did n't know he was a rotter, did you?” The word smote Stellamaris like a foul thing. She shivered. Mrs. Risca kept her eyes fixed on her for a few seconds until, as it were, some inspired thought flashed into them a gleam of joy. “It 's jolly lucky for you that you did n't know. There 's a nice little drop from here down to the rocks. I 've been here often before.” Stella sprang to her feet and thrust her hands against the woman's breast. . “Let me pass! Let me pass!” she cried wildly. But the woman barred the downward path. A few steps beyond the bench it narrowed quickly upward until it merged into the cliff-side. “I'm not going to. You've got to stay here,” said Mrs. Risca, seizing Stella's wrists in a grip in which the girl's frail strength was powerless. “If you struggle and make a fuss, you 'll have us both chucked over. Don't be silly.” Then Stella, calling to her aid her pride and courage, drew herself up and looked the evil woman in the face. “Very well. Say what you have to say. I will listen to you.” “That 's sensible,” said Mrs. Risca, dropping her wrists. “I don't see why you should have gone on so. I only wanted to speak to you for your good and your happiness. You sit down there, and I 'll sit here, and we 'll have a nice, long talk about John.”