"Still believes in you, boy, and looks upon me as a skunk. She has no idea that you and I are in partnership," he laughed. "We'll get a thousand or two more out of her yet. Fortunately, she doesn't know the exact extent of my knowledge of her skittish indiscretions. Say, we struck lucky when we fell in with her, eh?" Hoggan reflected. It was certainly a cruel trick to have played upon a woman. They had met casually in the Rooms at Monte Carlo, then he had contrived to chat with her, invited her to tea at a famous _cafe_, strolled with her, dined with her, and within a week had so fascinated her with his charming manner that she had fallen in love with him, the result being that Patten, who had watched the pair, suddenly came upon them, and afterwards demanded hush-money, which he divided with his friend. Such instances of blackmail are much more frequent than are supposed. There is a class of low-down adventurer who haunts the gayer resorts of Europe, ever on the look-out for young married women who have been ordered abroad for the benefit of their health, and whose husbands, on account of their social, Parliamentary, or business duties, cannot accompany them. Hunting in couples, they mark down a victim, and while one, giving himself the airs of wealth, and assuming a title, proceeds to flirt with the lady, the other carefully watches. Too often a woman at the gay watering-places of Europe finds the gaiety infectious and behaves indiscreetly; too often she flirts with the good-looking young stranger until, suddenly surprised in compromising circumstances, she realises that her husband must never know, and is filled with fear lest he may discover how she has allowed herself to be misled. Then comes the blackmailer's chance. A hint that it would be better to pay than court exposure generally has the desired effect, with the result that the woman usually pawns what jewellery she possesses, and pays up. Many an unfortunate woman, though perfectly innocent of having committed any wrong, has paid up, and even been driven to suicide rather than allow the seeds of suspicion to be sown in her husband's heart. It was so in Lady Michelcoombe's case. She was a sweet little woman, daughter of a well-known earl, and married to Viscount Michelcoombe, a man of great wealth, with a house in Grosvenor Square and four country seats. Already the pair of adventurers had compelled her to pawn some of her jewels and hand them the proceeds. She was quite innocent of having committed any wrong, yet she dreaded lest her husband's suspicions might be excited, and had no desire that he should learn that she had deceived him by going to Monte Carlo instead of to her sister's. The real reason was that she liked the gaiety and sunshine of the place, while her husband strongly disapproved of it. Certainly her clandestine visit had cost her dear.