"Major Ruck says that he had, and married my mother for the sake of the necklace, which doubtless--as it has not been found after his death--he turned into money." "It might be so," murmured Durban moodily. "Major Ruck knew a great deal about Mr. Alpenny which I did not know. He was a kind of decoy duck to the master--a man about town who brought foolish youths to borrow money. A dangerous man, missy, and one you are well rid of. Missy"--he laid his hand on her arm--"be advised; seek to know no more. Mr. Alpenny's life was not a good one or a clean one. Marry Mr. Paslow, and go away." "I'll think of it, Durban," said Beatrice, after a few moments of thought, and there the conversation ended for the time being. All the same, Beatrice had no idea of going away. She even thought that she would not marry Vivian Paslow until things were made clear, and she--so to speak--knew where she stood. What with Vivian's marriage to Maud Ellis, and the late Mr. Alpenny's hints that the young man had committed crimes, there was much in Paslow's life which she did not understand. Had she loved him less, she would have had nothing more to do with him. But she did love him with all her heart and soul; consequently she believed that he was more sinned against than sinning. It was nothing out of the common that a young man in London should be entrapped into such a marriage; and, after all, it was not unusual that Vivian should strive to hide from her--the woman he really loved--the folly of which he had been guilty eight years ago. That she could forgive, and did forgive, and was ready to marry her lover as soon as he wished. But she could not rid herself of a vague fear that if she did marry him, it would only be the beginning of fresh misery. Durban's desire that the young couple should go away, seemed to her ominous; and Vivian, although under stress of circumstances had confessed the marriage, did not seem to be communicative regarding the other mysteries. What if at the back of all these things lurked some terrible scandal which might ruin her happiness and that of Paslow's? While thinking thus, it occurred to Beatrice that she had never learned what Vivian had done on that night when he left her under the Witches' Oak. They were together walking in the garden after dinner when she considered this question, and she asked Vivian at once to explain. He removed his cigar and looked at her searchingly. "What a woman you are to ask questions!" he said, with a forced laugh. "I want them answered," said Beatrice rather imperiously. Vivian shrugged his shoulders. "I am not averse to doing so," he said in a weary manner. "Well, on that night I left you and ran to see who was watching. It was a red-headed little beast called Waterloo, employed as a spy by Mr. Alpenny!" "I know him--I have seen him." "Seen him?" Vivian started and looked uneasy. "When?--where?"