"I trust you will excuse the liberty I take in addressing you on a little matter which concerns myself. Circumstances compelled me to leave the service of Mr. Haggard while you and madame were at the Villa Lambert. I have now, madame, to trespass on your kindness, in asking you to assist me in my present intention of re-entering that gentleman's service. I have no reason to believe, madame, that during the time I acted as Mr. Haggard's valet I failed to give satisfaction. It is to ask you to use your kind influence with my former master that I now address you. His valet, I understand, is about to leave him. It probably is in your power, madame, to enable me to obtain my old position once more. Should you feel inclined to use your influence in my behalf I shall be for ever grateful. I may tell you, madame, that business took me to the village of Auray; what I learned at Auray I shall look upon as a secret confided to my honour. I shall write to Mr. Haggard to-day to apply for the situation. Trusting, madame, that you will give me your powerful aid in this matter, I remain, "Very respectfully, "Your humble servant, "MAURICE CAPT. "P.S.--It will be unnecessary to answer this letter, as I feel I can count upon your generosity." There was no mistake. Lucy had taken every precaution; she had looked upon the old scandal as dead and comfortably buried, buried in the grave of the Parisian cemetery in which lay the unfortunate Hephzibah. She ground her little white teeth, as she saw the spectre rise once more in a new and uncompromising shape; an unpleasant feeling of utter helplessness filled her soul. Had her successful intrigues been all to no purpose after all? She had no doubt in her own mind as to what it was that Maurice Capt had learnt at the village of Auray. Capt had not written to ask her for money; she felt that he would probably name the price for his silence later on. In the meantime, she knew that the humble request of the Swiss valet was a politely-worded command which she dared not disobey; and she dreaded his presence, filled with the horrid fear of its consequences. It was even possible, she thought, that her cousin in her sudden terror might incontinently make a clean breast of the whole matter to her husband, or even to the squire. When one has felt perfectly secure, it is extremely painful to see all one's carefully-elaborated combinations instantaneously collapse. As has been said, Lucy Warrender was in the habit of looking upon servants as mere furniture, but here was a piece of furniture suddenly developed into a most substantial bogey.