"Well, I wish him to report to the Berry lot that there is no concealment about me. They may suspect that I know something of your whereabouts, and I don't want either one to drop down upon me. Denham is a fool, and what he sees he will report to them in his artless fashion. Consequently, Berry and Fan will trust me. I want to get in with them and learn what they are up to." "Do you think Denham can tell you?" "No," said Eustace, promptly, "I don't. Whatever the game is, that boy is in the dark. He has much too loose a tongue for Berry to trust him with his secrets." "But what's Berry bothering about him for?" "That's what I want to find out. Denham may know something. For instance, he mentioned the name of Balkis, as I told you." "What's the use of that?" asked Frank, gloomily. "This much. Starth had her portrait, and Berry is in touch with her. I want to learn why Berry calls at an opium shop at the docks. He's going there, I'm sure, to see Balkis." The two were standing by the window chatting in this way. As Eustace repeated the name of Balkis there sounded a low moan, which made the speakers turn. Miss Cork, with the tablecloth over her arm, stood at the open door, her thin face as white as the linen she bore. Apparently she had entered silently, as was her wont, to lay the table for luncheon, and had overheard the name. Like a statue she stood, her vacant eyes fixed on Jarman. "What's the matter?" he asked. Miss Cork's lips moved. "Balkis!" she said in a whisper. "What about Balkis. Do you know the name?" "Balkis!" said Miss Cork again. Then she threw down the cloth and ran back to the kitchen. Eustace followed and found her moaning in a chair. Rather brutally he shook her. "What's all this?" he asked. Miss Cork went on moaning. "I had a child--" she began; then shut up, and not another word could he get out of her. After many fruitless inquiries Eustace returned to the sitting-room to explain. "I told you I didn't trust her," said Frank, whose fears took shape at once. "She is a silent, secretive woman. I am sure she will get me into trouble. Why should she know that name?" "I can't say. And now she talks of some child--her own, she says. But you needn't be afraid, Frank, she's as true as steel." "I don't trust her," said Frank, doggedly. "Where did you pick her up?" Jarman, driven into a corner, replied reluctantly: "In a London court." "A police-court?" inquired Lancaster; then, when he received a nod, went on: "Then she's dangerous. What do you know of her past?" "Nothing. She never speaks of it. The poor wretch was taken up for vagrancy, and afterwards was handed over to the missionary. I knew the chap, and he told me what a capital cook the woman was, and how she needed a good home to put her right. She came to me as Miss Cork, and I have had no reason to regret having played the part of a good Samaritan. But it's strange that the name of Balkis should upset her." "Won't she explain?"