"Ah!"--the miser was shaking with rage--"it's Vivian Paslow: no denial--I can see he is the man; a penniless scoundrel, who is at my mercy!" "Don't dare to speak of him like that," flamed out Beatrice. "As to marrying him--he has not asked me yet." "And never will, if I can stop him. I know how to do so--oh yes, I do. He will not dare to go against me. I can ruin him. He----" At this moment there came a sharp rap at the door, which made Alpenny's face turn white and his lips turn blue. "Who is there?" "A telegram," said the voice of Durban; and Alpenny, with a smothered ejaculation of pleasure, went to open the door. As he did so, Beatrice noticed on the wall near the desk two keys, one large and one small. The little one she knew to be the key of the postern gate, and without hesitation she took it down and slipped it into her pocket. As Alpenny turned round with the telegram and no very pleasant expression of countenance, she felt that she would at least be able to see Vivian Paslow on that evening without arousing the suspicions of her stepfather. It was unlikely that any one would come that night, and he would not miss the key, which she could get Durban to replace the next day. As this thought flashed into her mind, she saw the face of the servant at the door. He looked puzzled, but probably that was because he beheld her in the sanctum of his master, hitherto forbidden ground both to him and to her. The next moment Alpenny had closed the door, and Durban went away. "This telegram is from Major Ruck," said Alpenny. "He is coming down on Saturday, so be ready to receive him." "I shall leave the place if he comes." "You won't: you'll wait and see him--and accept him also. If you don't, I'll make things hot for Vivian Paslow." This was, as Beatrice conceived, a game of bluff; so she replied boldly enough, "Mr. Paslow is able to look after himself. I decline to speak to Major Ruck, whosoever he may be, or even to see him." "Saturday! Saturday!" said Alpenny coldly, and opened the door. "Now you can go. If you leave The Camp, or if you refuse Ruck as your husband, Vivian Paslow will reap the reward of his crimes." And he pushed her out, locking the door after her with a sharp click. Crimes! Beatrice stood in the sunlight, stunned and dazed. What did Alpenny mean? What crimes could the man she loved have committed? Almost before she could collect her thoughts she felt a light touch on her shoulder, and turned to behold Durban. "Wasn't master in his counting-house all this afternoon?" asked the servant. "You should know, missy, as the parlour is opposite." "Yes, he was," she replied with an effort. "I never saw him come out." Durban wrinkled his dark brows. "Then how did he send the telegram, to which he has just now had an answer?" he demanded. "How do you know that this wire is an answer, Durban?" "The reply was prepaid, missy. How did master do it?"