"He is not so very clever then. All these months--and yet he has got no further than this!" "How much further do you want him to go? He has the box with all your papers--your treasonable papers--your orders from Dr. Leyds. Really, Mr. van Zwieten, you should have taken a little more care of that box! The top of a press was hardly a safe place to hide it. But perhaps you had been reading Poe's story of the 'Purloined Letter.'" "Never mind what I read," he said, evidently annoyed at her flippancy. "Let us confine ourselves to business. The idea of the disguised policeman was yours, I suppose?" "Yes, sir, it was. I felt sure that the landlady would not let us enter your room to make the search unless she was thoroughly frightened, so I suggested that he should get himself up as a member of the force. Our little stratagem succeeded to perfection. Mrs. Hicks--that is her name, I believe--was terrified and let us in at once. Then we found your box, and I sent Wilfred away with it while I stayed and wrote my note to you. Oh, what a time we had over your papers! You really are very clever, Mr. van Zwieten. What a lot the Foreign Secretary would give to see what we saw and, as it happens, he is a personal friend of mine. I might sell it, you know," she went on coolly. "I am poor enough now, and they would give me a good price." "Not such a price as would recompense you for what I could say about your husband," retorted the Dutchman. She laughed gaily. "Oh, that? My good man, I know all about that! Do you think I should have taken the trouble to talk to you if I had not known that my husband had been doing all your dirty work?" "Yes, he did my work," Van Zwieten said viciously. "He was my creature--paid by me with Transvaal gold. You call _me_ a spy, Lady Jane Malet. Your own husband was one--and not only a spy, but a traitor!" "I know it," she said, and her face was very pale, "and for that reason I am glad he is dead, terrible though his end was." "I dare say you helped him out of the world!" sneered Van Zwieten. "That is false, and you know it. I had no idea of what my husband was until I found his papers after his death. Had I known that when he was yet alive, I _might_ have killed him!" She clenched her hand. "Yes, I might have shot him, the mean, cowardly hound! He spoke against the Boers, and yet he took their money!" "Oh, you must not blame him for that. That was my idea." "It is worthy of you. Oh!"--she started up and paced the room in a fury--"to think that I should have been married to such a creature! To think that I should have lived on gold paid for the betrayal of my country! The cur! The Judas! Thank God he is dead." And then, turning abruptly on the Dutchman, "How did you gain him over to your side?" she asked. "Gilbert was a man once--a man and a gentleman. How did you contrive to make him a--a--thing?"