"Are you quite sure you prefer not to go for a drive this afternoon?" he asked, looking across at her. "No, really, dear. I don't feel at all fit. It is the excessive heat. It was awfully oppressive on the beach." "Very well, dear. Rest then, and get right by the time I get in for tea." She looked at him from beneath her half-closed lashes. Why had he asked her whether she had met anyone she knew that morning? It was not a usual question of his. Could he know anything? Had he been present and seen the meeting? No, that was impossible. He had been at home all the morning. She had made enquiry of Jenner as she came in, so as to satisfy herself. Yet there was a strange suspicion in his manner, she thought. It may have been her fancy, nevertheless he seemed unduly curious, and that question of his had set her wondering. For some moments she ate her dessert in silence. Before her arose all the horror of that amazing meeting. The words of the criminal who was her husband rang in her ears, cruel, brutal, and relentless. He had threatened to call there at the villa, and hand her letter to Bracondale, a threat which, she knew, he would carry out if she did not appease him and bow to his will. She was to exchange those pearls, Bracondale's valued gift, for the silence of a blackmailer and assassin! Ah! the very thought of it drove her to desperation. Yet she was about to do it for Bracondale's sake; for the sake of little Enid, whom she so dearly loved. Every word the brute had uttered had burned into her brain. Her temples throbbed as though her skull must burst. But she fought against the evil and against a collapse. She put on a brave front, and when Bracondale addressed her she laughed lightly as though she had not a single care in all the world. The meal over, she took a scarlet carnation from the silver epergne between them, broke the stem and, bending, placed it in the lapel of his coat, receiving as reward a fond, sweet kiss, old Jenner having finally left the room. "Now go and rest, dearest," his lordship said. "I have a few letters I will write before I go out." And he was about to cross to the door when it suddenly opened, and little Enid in her white muslin dress danced into the room, rushing up to her mother's outstretched arms. Bracondale caught the child and, taking her up, kissed her fondly. Then, when he set her down again, she rushed to Jean, and in her childish voice asked: "Mother, I was so afraid this morning when I saw you talking to that nasty man!" "Nasty man!" echoed Jean, her heart standing still. "Yes, mother. I ran across from Miss Oliver and was coming to you, but when I got round the rock I saw--oh, I saw a nasty man raising his hands, and talking. And you were so frightened--and so was I. So I ran back again. He was a nasty, bad man." For a second a dead silence fell. Then Jean, with a supreme effort, collected her thoughts and exercised all her self-control.