"I'm certain of it. He was a great friend of Sebastian Melstane's--a treacherous, cowardly friend, who played the traitor to his friendship." "How so?" "Because he loves Florry." "Impossible!" "It's true, I tell you," said Judith, doggedly; "he knew Mr. Melstane loved Florry, but that did not deter him from loving her himself. He has shown by a thousand signs that he loves her, and he kept it from no one but his dead friend. Oh, he's not called Judas for nothing." "I don't see what all this has to do with the interview." Judith sprang to her feet, and crossing over to the table laid her hand lightly on his shoulder. He shrank from that light touch, but otherwise gave no sign of emotion. "Do you know why he is coming here to-night?" she hissed into his ear. "Do you know what he intends to ask you? No, I see you don't! He is coming here to tell you something--something that is dangerous to you, and must be kept secret. He is coming to ask his price--that price is the hand of your daughter." Marson looked at her in surprise as she towered above him, and he was about to speak, when a knock came to the door. Without waiting for an invitation to enter, a servant appeared with a card on a salver. He held out the salver to his master, but Judith picked up the card lying thereon and read it. "Monsieur Jules Guinaud! Show him in here, Marks!" The servant bowed and retired, while Marson looked suddenly at Miss Varlins. "Are you going to wait?" "Not here," she said, pointing to a door masked by curtains at the end of the room; "I am going into the next room." "To listen?" "No! I am going upstairs to put on my dress, and will then come down and hear what Monsieur Guinaud has to say." "He wants the interview to be a private one." "Do you?" Marson did not answer, but sat nervously plucking at his chin. "You are dealing with a dangerous man," she said in a whisper, not knowing how near Judas might be to the door; "he needs a woman to deal with him. Hush! there is Guinaud! I'll go upstairs this way and be back shortly. Not a word." She went rapidly towards the masked door, and had just time to let the tapestry drop behind her, when Judas entered, preceded by the servant. "Monsieur Guinaud!" The servant retired, and Judas in his dark dress, with a crafty look on his bloodless face, stood looking at Mr. Marson. "Will you be seated, sir?" said the latter gentleman, indicating a chair. "Wis pleasure, monsieur," said Judas, bowing. "Speak you de français, monsieur?" "Oui." "Très bien," replied Guinaud, with a satisfied smile; "let us speak my tongue, monsieur, if you please! I am not at home in your English!" He sat down with a self-satisfied smile, drew his gloves off his long, lean hands, and having thrown open his overcoat, rubbed his hands together slowly, as he looked at Marson with his most guileless expression.