"You were--under a false name, to rob her of her money. Perhaps you are not aware that such a marriage is void. Miss Bellairs is not your wife; her money is not yours. I am going to give you the chance of handing it over. Take it, or go to gaol like the swindler you are." "How dare you call him a swindler?" said Clara, savagely. "Because I like to call things by their right names. It's a case of speaking by the book. I know all about your Anarchist schemes, and Madame Death-in-Life, Drabble, Rouge, and all the rest of the gang. However, I didn't come here to waste breath on either of you. You come along with me, Carson, or Boldini, or whatever else you choose to call yourself." "Where do you want me to go?" whimpered the wretched creature, looking up at the towering figure of Aldean. "To my hotel. Come along, up with you!" Clara dashed to the bell. "I'll call the landlord and have you turned out!" she said viciously. "You can't bully us!" "Don't want to. Sorry if I'm not conducting the business according to etiquette. You know more about this sort of thing than I do. Ring the bell by all means, and I'll have up the police. Ring; go on." "No, no, Clara, don't!" shrieked Boldini, leaping out of his chair at the mention of the police. "He knows too much." "Hold your tongue," said the woman, between her teeth. "He can prove nothing, you fool." "The police can judge of that," replied Aldean, quietly. "Ring." But Miss Trall did not ring. She knew better. She recognized that whatever he might know, Lord Aldean knew quite enough to make the intervention of the police unpleasant. The game was up, she saw plainly. So reluctantly she yielded. "We can do all that is to be done here," said she, sullenly, fighting every inch. "I'm afraid not," answered Jim, suavely. "My hotel is the best place. There's a cab waiting." Then, seeing that Clara was still irresolute, he took out his watch. "I'll give you just two minutes." Clara moved slowly across the room to where Boldini sat in sheer terror. "What shall we do?" she asked, in a low voice. "Go, go," moaned the man. "We must go; perhaps we can make terms." Aldean overheard the remark. "It is my right to make terms," he said, "and I make these. Give back the money; confess the whole conspiracy, and you can go where you will." For a moment or two the pair looked at one another. Clara bent forward and whispered something in Boldini's ear. He nodded, and a gleam of hope passed across his face as he rose, holding a handkerchief to his mouth. "We are ready to go with you," said Clara, turning towards Aldean. "Very good. Come on." CHAPTER II. "ONE PORTION OF THE CONSPIRACY."