"Well, it's a pity that he's intimate with the man I knew as Lieutenant Shacklock, for when he is in the hands of the police some curious revelations will be made--revelations that will reveal the existence of a most ingenious and daring Continental gang. You see," I added, with a smile, "I'm not making a mere idle statement--I know. These men once robbed a friend of mine, and it is only just to him that, having discovered Shacklock, I should give information against him." "You mean you will win Ella by freeing her of that man?" said my companion, apparently following me for the first time. "Exactly. If he holds any secret of hers, he is quite welcome to speak. Neither I nor Ella will fear anything, you may depend upon that. A man of his stamp always seeks some low-down revenge. It is only what may be expected. Perhaps I may as well tell you that I recognised him when you introduced us, and that I have already been down to Cornwall and seen the smug scoundrel at his home. He's a church-warden, a parish councillor and all the rest of it, and the people believe he's worth thousands. He poses as a philanthropist in a mild way, opens local bazaars, and makes speeches in support of the local habitation of the Primrose League. All this is to me most amusing. The fellow little dreams that he sits upon the edge of a volcano that to-morrow may engulf him--as it certainly must." "But is this worth while--to denounce such a man? You'll be compelled to support your allegations," she said. "Oh! I can do that, never fear," I laughed. "I shall bring his victim forward--the man he robbed so heartlessly. English juries have no compassion for the swell-mobsman or the elegant hotel-thief." I watched her face as I spoke, and saw the effect my words were having upon her. If I denounced him her own father would at once be implicated. Hers were alarming apprehensions, no doubt. I saw that I was gradually gaining the whip-hand over circumstance. She recognised now that her father was in deadly peril of exposure. And yet did she know the truth, after all? If she actually knew that the young Chilian Carrera, the man she loved when they lived outside Paris, had met with his death through her own father's treachery, she surely would not hold him in such esteem. Yet was it likely that such skilled scoundrels as the mysterious Miller, Milner--or whatever he chose to call himself--and Gordon-Wright alias Lieutenant Harold Shacklock would risk exposure by betraying their true occupation to a sweet high-minded girl such as Lucie really was? Had she been their decoy; had there, indeed, been any suspicion that she had assisted them in their clever conspiracies of fraud then it would have been different.