In a little while the woman returned and told the deputy that Miss Ilingsworth had moved, had taken all her things, had gone, they didn't know where; and the warden repeated her words to the poor old man before whom lay many nights yet of sleeplessness and agony. XVI "I believe I once remarked to you, Mrs. Peter V., that I needed you," said Flomerfelt, his fingers stealthily groping into the depth of his sleeves for his cuffs, and when they were arranged to his satisfaction, he added: "to manage Peter V. It seems that I was mistaken." "And you don't need me?" asked Mrs. Wilkinson anxiously. For the lady feared Flomerfelt, and realised that he was a dangerous man. In some way or other she considered him responsible for the attempt on her husband's life, which ended in the killing of Roy Pallister. She had never lost confidence in Flomerfelt's ability to win the battle that he and she were waging against her husband. There had been a time, it must be acknowledged, when she had looked up to and admired Wilkinson, but that feeling had long since passed off and had been replaced by one of tolerance and fear. Now she despised the man--despised him the more because she believed that Flomerfelt would circumvent him. A poor judge of character, as she was--a woman whose only end and aim in life was to feed her own desires--she saw nothing save unsuccessful clumsiness in Wilkinson's move at this time, and had naught but admiration for Flomerfelt's promised finesse. "You do need me?" she asked, taking refuge in tears. And she was rewarded by a sudden half-reluctant change in his manner, for he said soothingly: "I suppose I do, but not as far as your husband is concerned. Peter V., in or out of prison, is sewed up, done up; he's in our hands. Our fight is with a woman." And even before the last word was spoken he noted that she seemed to be impressing upon herself the possibility of such a contingency. "I suppose you know," he went on, "did Peter V. tell you that Leslie had refused Governor Beekman?" "The girl's a fool!" exclaimed her step-mother. "If she halts at marrying a governor--I'd marry Beekman--I'd marry any governor in the land! I've been all wrong in thinking that money will do everything in New York! A millionaire's wife is nobody, unless.... Now if I were a statesman's wife, they'd have to recognise me--I'd show them!" "You don't suppose that she wants _me_, do you?" Flomerfelt said, putting into his voice as much tenderness as he dared. Mrs. Peter V. shook her head, laughing scornfully in spite of herself. "Some day, perhaps, we can make her like you, when I'm through liking you myself," she replied. "You?" scowled Flomerfelt. The woman shivered at his tone. "What reason does she give?" she asked, wisely changing the subject. Then Flomerfelt went on to explain with a grim smile what he thought of the deep-laid plans of Colonel Morehead, the schemes of Wilkinson and how they had all gone for naught, ending with: