"Of course not. But I shall be able to see what kind of a woman she is. I don't want Ida to get under another bad influence. That of Miss Hest is quite enough. I am clever enough to read this Diabella's character, and if possible, I shall try and prevent Ida from seeing her again." "It's just as well. Tell me what you hear from this fortune-teller." Towton shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, it will be the same old rubbish about love and money and marriage. I don't believe in these mercenary occult people myself, although I have every faith in the genuine sort I have met with in India. Now, one of those, Vernon, would soon spot this damned Spider." "Why not ask Diabella?" "I shall do so. Gad! it's an idea. But, then, I don't think occultists who take money are the real truth-tellers. However, it can do no harm asking her, so I shall do so. By the way, Vernon, have you heard if the police have stumbled on the track of that rogue?" "Not yet. Drench tells me that nothing has been discovered. I am trying to hunt him down myself." "You? Pooh! Pooh! Pooh!" said Towton good-humouredly. "Why, it needs a trained man to do that. The Spider is as clever as the devil, hang him. To think that I was at the ball, and in the next room, when our poor old friend was being-strangled by that beast. I tell you what, sir, the strangling put me in mind of the Thugs." "What do you mean?" asked Vernon quickly. "It's only an idea. But this Spider strangled the old man so cleverly and so quietly that I wondered if he was some nigger who had known Dimsdale in India or Burmah and so had learned his secret, whatever it might be." "It's a queer way of looking at it," murmured Vernon thoughtfully, "and Dimsdale's secret has to do with the East, I fancy. There may be something in what you say. I'll think it over." "Do," said Towton cordially, "and I'll come to your rooms to report on my proposed interview with this Bond Street Witch of Endor." On this understanding they parted, having had a most interesting conversation on important subjects. "There may be something in Towton's idea," thought Vernon. CHAPTER VII. LADY CORSOON'S APPEAL. Since the tragic death of Dimsdale, Vernon had seen very little of Maunders. Certainly--since even London is parochial in bringing the same people in the same set constantly together--he had met him casually at the houses of mutual acquaintances, but beyond a few careless words, nothing had passed between them. It seemed as though Maunders, after deciding to leave the partnership with Nemo in abeyance, had drifted knowingly apart from his old schoolfellow. Vernon did not care much, as he mistrusted a man who was willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to his greed for pleasure.