‘I am not so stupid. There can be no harm in accepting an anonymous gift. I shall keep it, of course.’ ‘I did not think you had fallen so low.’ Upon this La Chicot retorted insolently, and there were very hard words spoken on both sides. The lady kept the bracelet, and the gentleman went next day to the jeweller who had supplied it, and tried to discover the name of the purchaser. The jeweller was studiously polite, but he had no memory. Jack Chicot minutely described the bracelet, but the jeweller assured him that he sold a dozen such in a week. ‘I think you must be mistaken,’ said Chicot; ‘this is a bracelet of very uncommon form. I never saw one like it,’ and then he repeated his description. The jeweller shook his head with a gentle smile. ‘The style is new,’ he said, ‘but I assure you we have sold several exactly corresponding to your description. It would be quite impossible to recall----’ ‘I see,’ said Chicot; ‘you would not like to disoblige a good customer. I dare say you know what the bracelet was meant for. Such shops as yours could hardly thrive unless they were indulgent to the vices of their patrons.’ And after launching that shaft Mr. Chicot left the shop. He returned to his lodgings to pack a small portmanteau, and then went off to take his own pleasure. What need had such a wife as his of a husband’s care? She would not accept his advice, or be ruled by him. She had chosen her road in life, and would follow it to the fatal end. Of what avail was his weak arm to bar the path? To this daughter of the people, with her deadened conscience and indomitable will, that interposing arm was no more than a straw in her way. ‘Henceforth I have done with her,’ he said to himself. ‘The law could desire no stronger divorce between us than this which she has made. And if she does me wrong the law shall part us. I will have no mercy.’ While he was packing his portmanteau an idea flashed into his mind. It was a horrible notion, and his cheek paled at the first aspect of it, but he took it to his heart nevertheless. He was going away, for an indefinite time, perhaps. He would set a watch upon his wife. Her audacity, her insolence, had aroused the darkest suspicions. A woman who thus openly defied him must be capable of anything. ‘Whom can I trust?’ he asked himself, pausing in his preparations, on his knees before the open portmanteau. ‘The landlady, Mrs. Evitt? No, she is sly enough, but she has too long a tongue. A glass of grog would loosen that tongue of hers at any time, and she would betray me to my wife. It must be a man. Desrolles. Yes, the very man. He has all the qualities of the trade.’ Chicot locked his portmanteau, strapped it, and carried it out on to the landing. Then he ran up to the second floor, and knocked at the door of the front room. ‘Come in,’ said a languid voice, and Jack Chicot went in.