"Well, there are several courses open. You could make her an anonymous gift. But that would be difficult, for with a little inquiry she could discover the source of the payment." "Ah! I don’t want her to know anything!" "I quite agree with that. You could, of course, make a will in her favour—leave her a legacy." Mrs. Morrison remained silent for a while. "Yes," she said at last, "that would be a way of easing my conscience regarding my husband’s offence." "Or, another way, you could insure your life in her favour. Then, at your death, she would receive the money unexpectedly," he suggested. "That’s rather a brilliant suggestion, Mr. Emery!" she replied eagerly. "But I know nothing about insurance matters. How can I do it? What have I to do and where shall I go to insure?" "Well, Mrs. Morrison, I happen to be agent for a first-class life assurance company, the Universal, whose head offices are in Cornhill, London. If you so desire, I would be very happy to place a proposal before them," he said enthusiastically, for it meant a very substantial commission. "I shall be very glad indeed, Mr. Emery, if you can carry the business through for me." "With the utmost pleasure," was the young man’s reply. "Er—what amount do you propose?" "Oh! I hardly know. Some really substantial sum, I think. My husband, I have learned, got some twenty thousand pounds out of Mr. Braybourne. At least I would like to give her back half that sum." "Ten thousand! How extremely generous of you, Mrs. Morrison. Of course, it’s a large sum, and will mean a special premium, but no doubt the company will, providing you pass the medical test, issue the policy." She thanked him for his promise to take up the matter for her. Then he went down to the writing-room to pen a letter to the Universal Assurance Company, while the handsome red-haired widow passed along the lounge and, with her merry chatter, rejoined his wife. *CHAPTER III* *THE "GAME"—AND ITS PLAYERS* On the following morning Mr. Emery, the young solicitor, entered Mrs. Morrison’s sitting-room at Llandudno with a telegram in his hand. "I’ve just had this from the manager of the Universal. They are prepared to do the business and are writing me full particulars. I shall get them by to-morrow morning’s post. I’ve wired to my clerk, Wilson, to post me a proposal form and some other papers." Emery, his one thought being the big commission upon the business, entered Mrs. Morrison’s room twenty-four hours later with a number of papers in his hand. He sat down with the rich widow, and put before her the proposal form—a paper which had printed upon it a long list of questions, mostly inquisitorial. The bed-rock question of that document was "Who are you, and are you subject to any of the ills that human flesh is heir to?"