The lovers were unaware that Boyne had been making the most careful inquiries concerning both of them, for the instant he realised that he was being watched, he had laid certain diabolical plans by which to triumph. "It’s their lives—_or mine_!" he whispered to himself, with a strange hard look in his eyes. "I can’t afford to be watched by such inquisitive folk. I was a fool not to take Lilla’s advice concerning this girl." He walked across to the sideboard and poured himself out a liqueur-glass full of brandy, which he tossed off at a single gulp. "I’ll test her and see what happens," he said aloud, with a chuckle. Then, slipping on his shoes and going to the front door, he opened it, and, having banged it, walked heavily back along the passage to the room. The noise awakened Marigold, who, all unconscious that Boyne had seen her there, instantly jumped up and listened. She heard footsteps on the stairs and saw a passing light beneath her door. She heard him ascend the next flight of stairs towards the locked room, and then carefully opening her door, peered out after him. Suddenly he turned and descended, as though he had forgotten something, but his quick eye, as he flashed his lamp upon her door, detected that it was noiselessly closing. In pretence of ignorance he passed down to his own room, and entering it, closed the door heavily. "Yes," he whispered to himself. "Ah! I was not mistaken! The girl is here in my house to spy upon me! She’s dangerous—just as dangerous as the man. And in my game I allow no enemies to confront me!" Then, laughing grimly, he clenched his bony fists and set his teeth. Afterwards he retired to bed, leaving the girl listening attentively to noises he purposely made. *CHAPTER XVI* *BAITING THE TRAP* Next day Boyne remained in the house until Marigold had left to go to the City—for she was anxious to report the result of her vigil to her lover and then, instead of going out upon his daily collection of insurance premiums, he went to Pont Street. He arrived at the fine red-brick house about eleven, opening the door with his latchkey. He found his wife in her bedroom, and closing the door, he exclaimed in an unusually excited voice: "Lilla! there’s trouble brewing—_very serious trouble_!" "In what direction?" gasped the handsome woman, starting from the long mirror before which she was arranging her blouse. "That girl Marigold—the old woman Felmore’s niece—is suspicious, and she has established herself in my house in order to watch me!" "Why is she suspicious?" "I don’t know. That’s the mystery of it. How much she knows I can’t tell." "One thing is plain," said the woman. "If we are to save ourselves, her lips must be closed. Surely that will be easy—just a nice box of chocolates, tied with ribbon, or something like that—eh? We did it before with little Louise, at Cheltenham."