“He had first innings. He met her abroad somewhere--rescued her in the snow or something. That rescuing stunt always pays with a woman. All _I_ did”--with a short, harsh laugh--“was nearly to break her neck for her out driving one day recently!” “Is she engaged to Monsieur Tormarin?” asked Madame do Varigny quickly. “No. Luckily, there’s some old affair in the past holds him back.” She nodded. “You shall marry her,” she declared with conviction. “See, Monsieur Bewrke--_aïe, aïe, quel nom!_ I am _clairvoyante, prophétesse_, and I tell you that you weel marry zis leetle brown Jean.” Her foreign accent strengthened with her increasing emphasis. Burke looked dubious. “I’m afraid your clairvoyance will fail this journey madame. She’ll probably marry Tormarin--unless”--his eyes glinting--“I carry her off by force.” Madame de Varigny shook her head emphatically. “But _no!_ I do not see it like that. _Eh bien!_ If she become _fiancée_--engaged to him--you shall come to me, and I will tell you how to make sure that she shall not marry him.” “Tell me now!” “_Non, non!_ Win her your own way. Only, if you do not succeed, if Monsieur Tormarin wins her--why, then, come to visit me at Château Varigny.” That night a letter written in the Comtesse de Varigny’s flowing foreign handwriting sped on its way to France. “Matters work towards completion,” it ran. “My visit here has chanced _bien à propos_. There is another would-be-lover besides Blaise Tormarin. I have urged him on to win her if he can, for if I have not wrongly estimated Monsieur Tormarin--and I do not think I have--he is of the type to become more deeply in love and less able to master his feelings if he realises that he has a rival. At present he refrains from declaring himself. The opposition of a rival will probably drive him into a declaration very speedily. When the dog sees the bone about to be taken from him--he snaps! So I encourage this red-headed lion of a man, Monsieur Burke, to pursue his _affaire du cour_ with vigour. For if Blaise Tormarin becomes actually betrothed to Mademoiselle Peterson, it will make his punishment the more complete. I pray the God of Justice that it may not now be long delayed!” CHAPTER XXV--ARRANGED BY TELEPHONE THE visit to London, if it had not been prolific in the results which Lady Anne had hoped for, had at least accomplished certain things. It had acted as a brake upon the swiftly turning wheels of two lives precariously poised at the top of that steep hill of which no traveller can see the end, but which very surely leads to heartbreak and disaster, and had sufficed, as Jean had suggested that it might, to restore Nick to a more normal and temperate state of mind.