He had one faithful ally, though not a powerful one, in Editha, who, lured by some vague promises of his, desperate too, as regarded her own future, had chosen to throw in her lot whole-heartedly with his. He was closeted with her on the following day, in the tiny withdrawing-room which leads out of the hall at Acol Court. When he had stolen into the house in the small hours of the morning he had seen Richard Lambert leaning out of one of the windows which gave upon the park. It seemed as if the young man must have seen him when he skirted the house, for though there was no moonlight, the summer's night was singularly clear. That Lambert had been on the watch--spying, as Sir Marmaduke said with a bitter oath of rage--was beyond a doubt. Editha too was uneasy; she thought that Lambert had purposely avoided her the whole morning. "I lingered in the garden for as long as I could," she said to her brother-in-law, watching with keen anxiety his restless movements to and fro in the narrow room, "I thought Lambert would keep within doors if he saw me about. He did not actually see you, Marmaduke, did he?" she queried with ever-growing disquietude. "No. Not face to face," he replied curtly. "I contrived to avoid him in the park, and kept well within the shadows, when I saw him spying through the window. "Curse him!" he added with savage fury, "curse him, for a meddlesome, spying cur!" "The whole thing is becoming vastly dangerous," she sighed. "Yet it must last for another few weeks at least...." "I know ... and Lambert is a desperate enemy: he dogs Sue's footsteps, he will come upon you one day when you are alone, or with her ... he will provoke a quarrel...." "I know--I know ..." he retorted impatiently, "'tis no use recapitulating the many evil contingencies that might occur.... I know that Lambert is dangerous ... damn him! ... Would to God I could be rid of him ... somehow." "You can dismiss him," she suggested, "pay him his wages and send him about his business." "What were the use? He would remain in the village--in his brother's cottage mayhap ... with more time on his hands for his spying work.... He would dog the wench's steps more jealously than eve.... No! no!" he added, whilst he cast a quick, furtive look at her--a look which somehow caused her to shiver with apprehension more deadly than heretofore. "That's not what I want," he said significantly. "What's to be done?" she murmured, "what's to be done?" "I must think," he rejoined harshly. "But we must get that love-sick youth out of the way ... him and his airs of Providence in disguise.... Something must be done to part him from the wench effectually and completely ... something that would force him to quit this neighborhood ... forever, if possible." She did not reply immediately, but fixed her large, dark eyes upon him, silently for a while, then she murmured: "If I only knew!" "Knew what?" "If I could trust you, Marmaduke!"