Zara stood for one moment with clenched hands and a frown on her pretty, babyish face, which could look so strong at times, and which deceived men into thinking her a mere toy-woman. She had not expected Clarice to take her at her word, and thus had lost a move in the game. In spite of her bravado, she had no desire that the Crumel police, or the London detectives, should know about Osip. It would be a good advertisement in one way, and yet, in another, it might do her harm with the managers. She had really been ignorant that the survivor of the famous Purple Fern Triumvirate was acting with her. But who would believe in her innocence, did the fact become public property? With a swift movement she placed herself between Clarice and the door. "No. I take back what I said. You must not tell the police about Osip--it would do me harm." "Very good. I'll hold my tongue, if you will be silent about my masquerade in this dress." "Ah, you are afraid," sneered Zara. "In a way, yes--for my promised husband, since he would not like any one to know of my adventure. For myself, I am not afraid, as I have done nothing wrong." "You are stronger than Ferdy," said the dancer, suddenly. "I should hope so," replied Clarice, contemptuously; "Ferdy is a reed--a piece of putty. I wonder that a clever woman, such as you are, wants to marry so weak a man." "It is because he is weak that I wish him to become my husband," said Zara, quickly. "I wish to marry, so as to have a protector in my public life, as I am sick of all these fops who come round me. But I do not wish to wed a fireside tyrant, and so--" she stretched out her arms in a French fashion and with a careless shrug. "I will hold my tongue," she went on, "not even my mother will ever know that you are really Clarice Baird. As to Osip--what will you do?" "I shall say nothing at present," replied Clarice, after a moment's thought, "but you must be aware that it will not do to allow such a man to live. He will only commit more murders." "I suppose so. What a devil the man is. Yet, you know, as Brown he really was rather nice. Ugh!" Zara shivered again. "I am not a silly fainting woman, but it turns me cold to think how often I have been in his company. He might have killed me." Clarice took a cigarette out of the silver box and lighted up. "I must be going now," she said, quietly, "and so I have to keep up my pretence of being a man. But one last word. We understand one another." "Yes," said Zara, promptly. "I keep silent about Clarke, and you about Osip. Of course, also, I marry Ferdy." "No," said Clarice, determinedly. "I won't leave this house until I have your promise to give up Ferdy." "To Prudence Clarke?" sneered the dancer. "She won't have him." "Yes, she will. She loves Ferdy and Ferdy loves her." "If the weak affection of Ferdy can be called love," said Zara, derisively. "But Prudence won't marry him, so long as she believes that her father is guilty." "But he is not."