"Well, I know a great many things. You see my father was a merchant in the Orient, and my mother had some of the Parsee about her. We gravitate to strange things. But I see you have the Cardinal Moth, and, what is more, I know where you got it from." The last words came with a quick indrawing of the breath that faintly suggested a hiss. "Paul Lopez is by way of being a relation of mine," Mrs. Benstein went on. "At one time we were engaged to be married. I was much annoyed when he changed his mind. Sir Clement, why do you choose to be so amiable to-day?" The quick audacity of the question stirred Frobisher’s admiration. This woman was going to get on. With his fine instinct, Frobisher decided to be frank. Frankness would pay here. "Well, I am a great admirer of courage," he said. "I admire your splendid audacity in coming here in broad daylight wearing diamonds." A wonderful smile filled the eyes of the listener. "Why shouldn’t I wear them if I like?" she demanded. "The stones are wonderfully becoming to me. And, after all, it is only a matter of what these chattering parrots here call fashion. See how they are all watching me, imagine the things they are saying about me." "And I am quite sure you do not mind in the least?" "Not I. I must be doing something out of the common, something daring and original." "It was anything but original, but certainly very daring, for one so beautiful to marry a man as—er, mature, as Aaron Benstein," Frobisher murmured. It was an audacious speech, and Mrs. Benstein smiled. "You might have had a duke or even a popular actor." "Well, you see, I was sick of being poor. It is not my fault that I was born an artist with a second-hand clothes shop in Hoxton for a home. I don’t look the part, do I? And Aaron came and fairly worshipped the ground I stood on. Except for money, and the making of it, he is perfectly childish." "Therefore he tells you all his secrets like the dutiful husband that he is?" "Oh, yes. I find some of the secrets useful. There is the Countess of Castlemanor yonder, who has stared at me in a way that would be vulgar in the common walk of life. And yet, if I went up and whispered a word or two in her ear, she would gladly drive me home in her car." Frobisher laughed silently. Here was a woman after his own heart—a woman who studied society and despised it. And Frobisher was going to make use of her, as he made use of everybody, only this was going to be one of his finest efforts. Isa Benstein was no ordinary pawn in the game. "I should like to see you do it," he chuckled. "What is the use? She is a poor creature, despite her title and her marvellous taste in hats. Can’t you give me a similar hold on Lady Frobisher? There would be some fun in humbling her."