"You may as well tell me," he said; "I know so much about you, that I may as well know the rest." "What do you mean, Trall?" "That letter of Clara's. She reported to me all that passed between you and Mrs. Carson. You are bent on dissolving that marriage and getting back the money." "Well, suppose I am. I can do that and still be true to the cause." "No, you can't, Mr. Mallow. Carson was married to Miss Bellairs to get that money for the cause." "Then the husband of Miss Bellairs is not really Carson." "No, he is not. He is a tool in the hands of this infernal Drabble, as I am." "What is this man's name--his real name?" asked Mallow. "I don't know! I swear I don't know. Hush! I can't go on speaking to you here; they have spies everywhere. But I just want to tell you that no one but myself read that letter, and that it is in the fire. I know you are not in earnest for the cause, and I am glad of it." "And why, may I ask, are you glad of it? You are one of them." "I am not!" denied Jeremiah, fiercely. "I am a drunken fool under the thumb of Drabble. I wish to God the cause was at the bottom of the sea, and Drabble kicking his heels in gaol--or the scaffold, if I could only get him there. I had a position once Mr. Mallow, I am an outcast now, solely through Drabble, who has been the curse of my life. He treats me like a dog; but a dog can bite, and bite him I will when he least expects it. He has ruined me; he has brought my niece, Clara, into his cursed schemes. She, too, is under his thumb. Oh, my God! If only you knew my life's history, you would pity me. Some day I'll tell it to you, if only to show you how lost a man can become, body and soul. Drabble is a devil--curse him! Hush! don't speak; I'll go--I'll go. I only wanted to tell you that the secret of your real intentions is quite safe with me. If you can ruin Drabble, and with him that stony-hearted Jezebel, do it--do it, I say. Tread them under foot--make them suffer as I have suffered, as they have made me suffer." Trall, gripping Mallow's hand, shook it violently, and disappeared round the corner of the street. Mallow was too much astonished to follow him. He walked on home. Almost at his doorstep a hand was laid upon his arm. He turned to see the villainous face of Vraik smirking at him. "I've come to report, sir," whined the spy. "I've seen Major Semberry in conversation with a light-haired, light-bearded man." "Who is he?" "Francis Hain, sir!--the man who was concerned in the murder. I'm sure of it." CHAPTER VII. "AN UNEXPECTED MEETING." "Francis Hain?" stammered Mallow, amazed. "Impossible! You must be mistaken. You have never seen Francis Hain!" Vraik rubbed his hands and leered.