The secret marriage was, after all, in the nature of a gamble. If things turned out as she expected, if the old aunt died in reasonable time, the odds were in her favour. She could twist Jack round her little finger. But nobody knew better than this astute young woman of the world that there is many a slip betwixt the cup and the lip. Something that she had not calculated, not foreseen, might happen at any moment, and her house of cards might tumble to the ground. Her adventurous life had taught her never to be too sure of momentary prosperity. She was a little bit nervous and "jumpy," like her brother, to-night. Her smile was a little forced, her high spirits rather assumed. The wedding-ring, the marriage certificate hidden from sight, were great assets. And yet, was it all just a little too good to be quite true? Murchison talked with the brother, desultory sort of talk, hardly conscious of what he was saying. His ears were straining for the sound of that electric-bell which would herald the arrival of Davidson and his colleague. And it came very quickly. There was a loud, imperative peal. Burton started from his seat, and forgot his assumed good manners. "Who the devil is that?" he cried fiercely. "Do they want to knock the house down?" It was the vulgar exclamation of a very vulgar man. Miss Burton was more mistress of herself, but Hugh observed that her cheek went a shade paler. Well, it was only natural. These two had been living in fear of the law for more years than they cared to remember. And they had thought they were safely in harbour. Poor fools! She turned to Pomfret, and forced a wan smile. "It is really quite alarming, Mr Pomfret, visitors at this time of the evening. And you know so well that nobody in Blankfield, except yourselves, ever crosses our threshold." The happy Jack, the husband of a few short hours, was quite unperturbed. He smiled back at her confidently. "Somebody come to the wrong house, I should say. Why, you have gone quite pale! What a nervous little thing it is!" He whispered the last sentence in a lover-like tone. Murchison felt every nerve in his body tingling. Jack was in a state of ignorance. The brother and sister, he was sure, were filled with vague and undefined alarms. He, alone out of the four sitting in that charming little drawing-room awaiting the announcement of dinner, was sure of what was going to happen. He stole a look across at Pomfret with the happy, fatuous smile of the successful lover on his face. Poor devil! In another couple of minutes he would be terribly disillusioned. There was a heavy trampling of feet across the hall. The visitors, whoever they were, had pushed past the trim and ladylike parlourmaid. The drawing-room door was flung open, and the two big men, Davidson and his colleague, advanced towards Burton who was standing in the middle of the room.