Madame stepped forward: the table was between her and my cousin. As for me I kept in the background watching and listening. What might this thing mean? Matthew, the sober, upright, religious London citizen! Matthew the worthy descendant of the great Puritan preacher! Matthew the denouncer of wicked musicians! Matthew the scourge of frivolity and vice! Matthew, my supplanter! Matthew in a gaming room! Matthew playing all night long and losing a hundred and fifty-five guineas in a single night! What was one to believe next? Jenny bent over the table: she still kept on her domino. 'Mr. Matthew Halliday,' she said. He lifted his head, stupidly. 'I congratulate you, Mr. Matthew Halliday,' she went on. 'You have passed a most pleasant and profitable evening. A hundred and fifty-five guineas! It is nothing, of course, to a rich merchant like yourself.' 'Who are you?' he asked. 'What concern is it of yours?' 'I am one who knows you. One who knows you already, and too well.' He stood up. 'I am going, Mistress,' he said--'unless you have something else to say.' 'Mr. Halliday--you lost two hundred guineas last night, and on Sunday you lost four hundred.' 'Zounds, Miss or Mistress, how do you know?' 'I know because I am told. You are a very rich man, Mr. Halliday, are you not? You must be to lose so much every night. You must be very rich indeed. You have whole fleets of your own, and Quays and Warehouses filled with goods--and you inherited a great fortune only two years ago.' He sank back in a chair and gazed stupidly upon her. 'How speeds your noble trade? How fares it with your fleets? How much is left of your great fortune?' He growled, but made no reply. Curiosity and wonder seized him and held him. Besides, what reply could he make? 'Who are you?' he asked. 'I will tell you, perhaps. How do you stand with Mr. Probus?' He sprang to his feet again. 'This is too much. How dare you speak of my private affairs? What do you know about Mr. Probus?' 'How long is it, Mr. Halliday, since you agreed with Mr. Probus that your cousin should be locked up in a Debtors' Prison there to remain till he died, or sold his birthright?' He answered with a kind of roar, as if he had no words left. He stood before her--the table between--half in terror--half in rage. Who was this woman? Besides, he was already very nearly beside himself over the long continuance of his bad luck. 'Who are you?' he asked again. 'What do you know about my cousin?' 'I will tell you, directly, who I am. About your cousin, Matthew, I warn you solemnly. The next attempt you make upon his life and liberty will bring upon your head--yours--not to speak of the others--the greatest disaster that you can imagine, or can dread. The greatest disaster,' she repeated solemnly, 'that you can imagine or can dread.' She looked like a Prophetess, standing before him with hand raised and with solemn voice. 'This is fooling. What do you know? Who are you?'