"Why should Cora Lestrade want to spare Mr. Forsyth?" asked the man, taking a step forward, to be instantly reminded of his position by the lean brown hand of Azimoolah falling like a vise on his shoulder. The Pathan evidently cherished a lingering hope that there might yet arise a pretext for treating "the black tribe" in the old way. "Because, sir, a woman can’t help herself in matters of the heart, and even the worst of ’em is capable of an unselfish attachment," the General replied, with slow emphasis. But he hastened to add, as if eager to disavow responsibility for the introduction of sentiment: "At least, so I was advised. The little scheme for obtaining the sham securities was based on the supposition that this woman had a liking for Mr. Forsyth, and would do him no hurt if she recognized him. That forecast has turned out to be well founded." "Uncle Jem!" Forsyth protested, flushing hotly. "Yes, laddie, I know you would not have taken the job on if I had informed you who Ziegler was," said the General. "There would have been less to fear, but there would have been a dash of the underhand about it that wouldn’t have suited you. But I should never have allowed you to walk into such a death-trap as that crypt would have been without the safeguard we—that is, I—trusted to. It wasn’t a case for being too nice. There’s no such thing as taking a mean advantage of people threatening life and property, they told me when I was taught my trade." The man Benzon, who had kept his gaze fixed on the face of Cora Lestrade, removed it now, and, with a cool politeness that struck an unaccountable chill to most of his hearers, thanked the General for enlightening him on "a point of considerable importance," and begged permission to depart if he was really not to be detained. At a sign from his master Azimoolah stood aside, and the man swung himself out of the window, gained a foothold on the ivy stems, and was gone. When they had all turned away from the darkling face framed for a moment among the creepers, it was seen that she who had loomed so largely in their lives of late as "Mr. Clinton Ziegler" and "Mrs. Talmage Eglinton" was swaying and about to fall. "Thank you," she said, recovering herself with a painful effort as Senator Sherman, who happened to be nearest, came to her assistance. "It was only a passing weakness, but I shall be glad if I may go to my room." And with a flicker of the old impudence she mimicked General Sadgrove: "Even the worst of ’em is capable of feeling shaken on hearing sentence of death pronounced," adding, with a swift change of manner, "and that is what I have heard in this room to-night."