'I might give a guess, I dare say. Well, you're the best judge, and we won't say any more about that. But look here--about Mrs. S. and her scandal. I feel sure, as I said, that she's toadying to Mrs. Carnaby, and expects to make her gain out of it somehow. Her husband's a loafing, gambling fellow, and I shouldn't wonder if he gave her the skip. Most likely she'll have to live by her wits, and we know what that means in a woman of her kind. She'll be more or less dangerous to everybody that's worth blackmailing.' 'You think she had--she was dependent in some way upon Mr. Redgrave?' asked Alma, in an undertone. 'I've heard so. Shall I tell you what a woman said who is very likely to know? Long ago, in the time of her first marriage, she got hold of something about him that would have made a furious scandal, and he had to pay for her silence. All gossip; but there's generally a foundation for that kind of thing. If it's true, no doubt she has been at his relatives since his death. It doesn't look as if they were disposed to be bled. Perhaps they turned the tables on her. She has looked sour and disappointed enough for a long time.' 'I was just thinking,' said Alma, with an air of serious deliberation, 'whether it would be worth while for _me_ to turn the tables on her, and prosecute her for slander.' 'If you take my advice, you'll keep out of that,' replied the other, with emphasis. 'But another thing has occurred to me. I see your opinion of Mrs. Carnaby, and no doubt you have good reason for it. Now, would it be possible to frighten her? Have you'--he peered more keenly--'any evidence that would make things awkward for Mrs. Carnaby?' Alma kept close lips, breathing rapidly. 'If you _have_,' pursued the other, 'just give her a hint that Mrs Strangeways had better stop talking. You'll find it effectual, no doubt.' He watched her, and tried to interpret the passion in her eyes. 'If I think it necessary,' said Alma, and seemed to check herself. 'No need to say any more. I wished to put you on your guard, that's all. We've known each other for a longish time, and I've often enough felt sorry that something didn't come off--you remember when. No good talking about that; but I shall always be glad if I can be a friend to you. And, I say, don't think any more about that cheque, there's a good girl.' The note of familiar patronage was more than distasteful to Alma. 'I shall, of course, send it,' she replied curtly. 'As you please. Would you like to hear a bit from my new opera? It isn't every one gets the chance, you know.' Quite in his old way, he seated himself at the piano, and ran lightly through a few choice _morceaux_, exacting praise, and showing himself vexed because it was not fervent. In spite of her wandering thoughts, Alma felt the seductiveness of these melodies--their originality, their grace--and once more she wondered at their coming from the mind of such a man. 'Very pretty.'