Had she been wise, she would have seen her lawyers and told them everything. As Rufus had deserted her for so many years, the law would put things right for her. As he had treated her with brutality her evidence would enable the law to arrange matters so that she would no longer live in a state of terrorism. She could get a separation, even a divorce. But Mrs. Baldwin was not wise. She was a slow-thinking woman, and the mere presence of the man terrified. If he came to rule her again, she would not have the will to go to her lawyers and tell the truth. She therefore took matters into her own hands and bought a pistol which she kept under her bed-pillow in the night and under the sofa-pillow in the day. She made up her mind that if he came secretly to the house, as he had done, and would likely do again, she would shoot him. She would give the man no chance of exerting his influence over her. But of all this she said nothing, not even to Gerty, who could not understand why her mother grew thinner and more silent. Instead of reading and eating Turkish-delight as usual, Mrs. Baldwin wandered about the house feeling every now and then for the weapon in her pocket which she always took when she left the sofa. "I'm all right, dear," said Mrs. Baldwin fretfully when Gerty made remarks; "I have a little worry, but it will pass away." Things were in this state when Tracey arrived in the company of Arnold. The two entered the room, being introduced by one of the twins. Gerty was away teaching an old gentleman to manage a motor-car, and Mrs. Baldwin was alone. As usual she was lying on the sofa, but no longer reading or eating sweets. She lay there a shapeless mass in her tawdry tea-gown staring at the roof. When Tracey entered she started and thrust her hand under the pillow. But when she saw it was merely her future son-in-law she sank back with a smile. However, the sudden start made her face white, and Tracey noted it. "You haven't been troubled by Rufus, have you?" he asked. "No," said Mrs. Baldwin, with a faint smile, "he has never been near me since. When he does come," her eyes gleamed, "I am ready for him--I am no longer the timid weak woman I was. How are you, Mr. Calvert?" "Very well, Mrs. Baldwin. You do not look well." "I have trouble. We all have our troubles." "Say," observed Tracey, "I've brought Calvert here to ask a question about a piece of jewellery of yours." Mrs. Baldwin sat up. "My diamond necklace," she cried, "where is it?" Arnold looked puzzled and Tracey held his tongue. "I know nothing about a diamond necklace," said Calvert; "this is what I wish you to see----" As he spoke he extended his hand in the palm of which lay the round locket of pale gold which Fane had produced. Arnold did not get a chance of finishing his sentence, for the moment Mrs. Baldwin set eyes on the unpretending piece of jewellery she gave a loud cry, opened her eyes, and sitting up grasped Calvert by the arm: