“I always felt a premonition that Stormont made the greatest mistake of his life when he cultivated Lydon’s acquaintance with the view of providing a good match for his niece. He should have steered clear of anybody who had a knowledge at first hand of that tragedy. I told him so when I first heard of it. I told him again when I met Lydon that day at Effington. He laughed at my fears, said that we had never met, and that if I kept my mother out of the way, all would be well. Dozens of girls had a similar blemish. How was he likely to connect me with Elise Makris? Lydon, I must say, acted very well. I did not suspect for a moment that he recognized me. I cannot guess to this day how he did.” “I think I can enlighten you on that point,” said Grewgus, who felt, after her attitude to him, that he could afford to show a little candour. He touched the sapphire pendant which she was wearing, and told her what Lydon had learned about it on the day he saw it lying on the table in a room of the Villa des Cyclamens. “If it had been the blemish only, Mrs. Edwards, he might not have identified you,” Grewgus concluded. “But it was _that_ which gave him the clue--your mascot which your mother said you always wore, and which she had taken from you that day in the hospital.” “Ah, now I understand. The incident must have passed completely from my mother’s mind, for although we have often talked together of young Lydon, and the necessity of keeping her out of his way, she never spoke of it. Strange, very strange,” she added in a musing voice, “that this little mascot in which I so firmly believed should be the cause of all that has happened, should have set you, through Lydon, on the track of myself, Stormont and the others.” Grewgus presently brought the conversation round again to Hugh Craig directly, and artfully cross-examined her as to the manner in which she had blackmailed him. But to his questions he did not get very distinct replies. He gathered that, in his infatuation for the beautiful girl, the young man had parted with large sums, ostensibly to defray debts incurred by herself and her mother, sums which were divided in certain proportions between the confederates in the schemes. But he failed to get any precise details. She sheltered her reticence under the plea that it gave her inexpressible pain to dwell upon those miserable days. She left him shortly, with renewed thanks for his promise to help her in case Edwards should return and endeavour to force his society upon her. And after she had left, he sat for a long time meditating on herself, her strange charm, and all she had told him. Had she been only playing a part in order to excite his sympathy, or had she always hated the life which had been thrust upon her by her environment, and was only too thankful to embrace this opportunity of quitting it? CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR