"They must not know!" said the woman in a hard, fierce tone. "You will know how to deal with them, Bernard. People who have tried to pry into our private affairs before have, all of them, bitterly regretted it—haven’t they?" Boyne grunted, but made no reply. "Will you tell Ena?" she asked. "Not yet. It may only frighten her unduly. When I want her help I’ll see her—perhaps to-morrow," was his reply. "I suppose we ought to have news from Lancaster Gate very soon," she said. "Mrs. Morrison went to tea with Ena yesterday. To-day she has gone back to Brighton, but is due here again to-morrow." "Yes, we ought to hear of some development soon," he said with a grim smile. "That affair is going all right. It’s this girl and her man who are so confoundedly dangerous to our plans." "You had similar trouble with Aitken a year ago, and you found an easy way out of it, Bernard. No doubt you’ll soon think of some means by which an end can be put to their infernal inquisitiveness." "I have a call to make," he said, rising from his chair suddenly. "I’ll be back again this afternoon. I’m going into the City." And he went out. At lunch time Marigold met her lover, and it was arranged that, as he would be at the office late that evening, he should not resume his watch until the following evening, neither of them, of course, suspecting that Boyne knew they were keeping him under observation or that he was busy laying a most devilish plan for their undoing. Gerald Durrant had grown fonder of Marigold than ever, and the pair were now inseparable. He disliked the idea of the girl living in that house of mystery, but she told him that she was in no way afraid, and that she was determined to solve the curious motive of Boyne’s double life. When, at six o’clock, she returned she sat down to tea with her aunt, and later, while she was laying Mr. Boyne’s table, he came in, greeting her cheerily, as was his wont. His attitude towards her was distinctly friendly, for he gave no outward sign of suspicion. The evening passed uneventfully, for Boyne went out about eight o’clock, and he did not return until long after the old woman and her niece were in bed. Marigold listened, but only heard him go up to his bedroom and close the door. After that there was no other sound. Boyne spent part of the following day with Lilla at Pont Street, where he held a long and secret consultation with her, after which he took a taxi to Upper Brook Street and sat with Ena for half an hour, explaining what he had discovered concerning the unwelcome attention which young Durrant and the girl was paying to him. The Red Widow at once became greatly perturbed. "But how much can they know?" she gasped, leaning forward in her chair, pale and agitated. "Very little." "They know nothing of your upstairs friend—eh?" "No. But they may suspect."