"I shall gamble or do something desperate," he said with a frown. "Unless you can bring off a coup that will produce twenty thousand pounds of ready money we are going to get into all kinds of trouble, Jean." "Do you think I don't know that?" she asked contemptuously. "It is because of this urgent need of money that I have taken a step which I hate." He listened in amazement whilst she told him what she had done to relieve her pressing needs. "We are getting deeper and deeper into Mordon's hands," he said, shaking his head. "That is what scares me at times." "You needn't worry about Mordon," she smiled. Her smile was a little hard. "Mordon and I are going to be married." She was examining the toe of her shoe attentively as she spoke, and Mr. Briggerland leapt to his feet. "What!" he squeaked. "Marry a chauffeur? A fellow I picked out of the gutter? You're mad! The fellow is a rascal who has earned the guillotine time and time again." "Who hasn't?" she asked, looking up. "It is incredible! It's madness!" he said. "I had no idea----" he stopped for want of breath. Mordon was becoming troublesome. She had known that better than her father. "It was after the 'accident' that didn't happen that he began to get a little tiresome," she said. "You say we are getting deeper and deeper into his hands? Well, he hinted as much, and I did not like it. When he began to get a little loving I accepted that way out as an easy alternative to a very unpleasant exposure. Whether he would have betrayed us I don't know; probably he would." Mr. Briggerland's face was dark. "When is this interesting event to take place?" "My marriage? In two months, I think. When is Easter? That class of person always wants to be married at Easter. I asked him to keep our secret and not to mention it to you, and I should not have spoken now if you had not referred to the obligation we were under." "In two months?" Mr. Briggerland nodded. "Let me know when you want this to end, Jean," he said. "It will end almost immediately. Please do not trouble," said Jean, "and there is one other thing, father. If you see Mr. Jaggs in the garden to-night, I beg of you do not attempt to shoot him. He is a very useful man." Her father sank back in his chair. "You're beyond me," he said, helplessly. Mordon occupied two rooms above the garage, which was conveniently situated for Jean's purpose. He arrived late the next night, and a light in his window, which was visible from the girl's room, told her all she wanted to know. Mr. Mordon was a good-looking man by certain standards. His hair was dark and glossily brushed. His normal pallor of countenance gave him the interesting appearance which men of his kind did not greatly dislike, and he had a figure which was admired in a dozen servants' halls, and a manner which passed amongst housemaids for "gentlemanly," and amongst gentlemen as "superior." He heard the foot of the girl on the stairs, and opened the door.