Hardly had the sound of the silvery bells died away when a second figure scaled the balcony, and, seeing the light over the top of the curtain, as arranged, he placed his hand upon the long glass door and slowly opened it.

He drew aside the curtain slightly to ascertain if Jean were there awaiting him, and, seeing her, he entered boldly.

Ralph was dressed just as he had been in the morning, only he wore yellow lisle-thread gloves, so as to conceal his finger-prints, which, alas! were too well known to the police.

Husband and wife faced each other, in ignorance that an intruder stood concealed behind that curtain within two or three feet of them.

The intruder had fixed his eyes upon Jean, and stood staring at her as though fascinated by her amazing beauty.

“At last, Ralph!” she gasped. “I—I thought perhaps you would not come—that you would think the risk too great.”

“Bah! What risk?” he asked. “Even if I were discovered, Bracondale could easily be satisfied that we are husband and wife.”

She shrank back at those words.

“The child saw you with me this morning and told her father.”

“Awkward. What did you say?”

“I made an excuse. One which, I hope, satisfied him.”

“Trust you, Jean, for a good excuse,” he laughed brutally.

Then, with a glance at the jewel-case on the table, he added: “But if I were you I’d be very wary. I suppose I did wrong in meeting you openly as I did. I ought to have been more circumspect. But, my girl, we need not have necessity to meet again, need we?”

“I hope not—for my sake,” was her reply, as she turned her pale face to his.

“If you play the game, I shall also do the same. So you needn’t fear. Only I must have an address where to write to you.”

“No,” she protested. “You must not write. It will be far too dangerous. And, besides, you made me a promise that if I gave you those,” and she glanced at the table, “you would give me back my letter, and go away, never to see me again.”

He regarded her in silence for a few moments, a sinister smile playing about his mobile lips. But he made no reply.

“Ah, Ralph,” she went on, “I—I can’t somehow trust you. When you have spent this money you will come back again. I know you will. Ah! you do not know all that this means to me.”

“Well, doesn’t it mean a lot to me—eh?”

“But I am a woman.”

“You have money, while I’m without a sou. You surely can’t blame me for getting a bit to go on with!” he exclaimed. “Is anybody about?”

“No. Bracondale has not yet returned, and all the servants are in bed.”

“By Jove! This is a pretty house of yours, Jean!” he remarked, gazing around. He had not removed his hat. “You ought to consider yourself deuced lucky. While I’ve been having all my ups and downs, you’ve been living the life of a lady. When I saw you in your car at Havre I couldn’t believe it. But to see you again really did my eyesight good.”

“And benefited your pocket,” she added bitterly.

He grinned. His nonchalant air irritated her. He was just the same as he had been in those days of their poverty, even though he now wore the clothes of a gentleman.

“Well,” he said at last, “I’ve been thinking things over this evening. You can’t expect me, Jean, to accept a lump payment for my silence, can you? If you had a respectable sum which you could hand over so that my wants would, in future, be provided for, it would be different. I——”

“Your wants!” she interrupted in anger. “What are your wants? Money—money—money always! Ah, Ralph! I know you. You brought me to ruin once, and you will do so again. I know it!”

“Not unless you are a fool!” he replied roughly. “You want your letter back—which is only natural. For it you give me your pearls. It is not a gift. I take them. I find the window unlatched, and come in and help myself. To-morrow you will raise a hue and cry—but not before noon, as I shall then be nearing old Uncle Karl, in Amsterdam. Bracondale will be furious, the SÜretÉ will fuss and be busy, and you will be in picturesque tears over your loss. Bracondale will tell you not to worry, and promptly make you another present—perhaps a better one—and then all will be well.”

“But you said you would leave Europe,” she replied anxiously.

“So I shall.”

“But——” and she hesitated.

“Ah! I see you don’t trust me.”

“I trusted you—once—Ralph. Do you recollect how brutally you treated me—eh?” she asked, in deep reproach.

“I recollect that, because of you, I quarrelled with Adolphe. He loved you, and now he’s in prison, and serve him right, the idiot!”

The concealed intruder was watching them between the wall and the curtain, yet hardly daring to breathe for fear of discovery. He had the pearls in his pocket, and as the glass door was closed he was unable to reopen it and escape, lest he should reveal himself.

He heard Ansell’s words, and understood the situation. If the lid of the jewel-case were raised the thief would be discovered, and the alarm given.

Those were moments of breathless peril.

“Adolphe protected me from your violence,” she replied, simply. “He was my friend, but he did not love me, because I loved you—only you!”

“And you care for me no longer?”

“The fire of my love for you burned itself out on that tragic night,” she replied.

“How very poetic,” he sneered. “Is it your habit to talk to Bracondale like that?”

She bit her lip. Mention of Bracondale’s name caused a flood of great bitterness to overwhelm her.

“I did not expect, when you came here, that you would insult me in addition to blackmailing me.”

“Blackmail, you call it—eh?”

“What else is it?”

“A simple purchase, my girl. I have a letter, and you wish to buy it. The transaction is surely a fair one! Besides, if you do not wish to buy my silence, it is quite immaterial to me. I shall soon find another purchaser in Bracondale.”

“He won’t believe you.”

“He has only to have a search made of the marriage register. Perhaps you don’t remember the date. I do.”

“And I, worse luck! Ah, how grossly you deceived me!” she exclaimed bitterly. “I thought I married a gentleman, only, alas! to discover that I had a notorious thief as husband.”

“You expected too much. You thought you had become a lady, and were disappointed when you found that you were not. Yes—I suppose when I told you the truth, it must have been a bit of a jag for you. That fool, Adolphe, wanted me to keep the truth from you. But what was the use?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “You were at least frank—perhaps the only occasion upon which you ever told me the truth.”

“The truth is generally unwelcome,” he laughed. “Lies are always pleasant.”

“To the liar.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have, in future, to lie to Bracondale.”

“I shall use my own discretion,” she responded. “Perhaps I shall confess.”

“And if so, what then?”

“I shall tell him that you entered here and stole my pearls.”

“How very generous that would be,” he laughed angrily. “And I wonder what Bracondale would think of you if you endeavoured to send your own husband to prison—eh?”

“Ah, you will drive me to desperation!” she cried, her dark eyes glaring at him angrily. “Give me the letter and go—go! Bracondale may be back now—at any moment!”

“I assure you I fear neither Bracondale nor you—nor even the result of your confession. And I feel quite loath to-night to leave you; you look so extremely charming in that pretty gown.”

“Don’t be foolish. At least have some consideration for me—for my future.”

“It is my own future I am thinking of,” he declared harshly. “Your future is assured, so long as you play the game with Bracondale. If you act indiscreetly, and give way to silly moods, then you will only have yourself to blame for your ruin. Besides,” he added, with his lip curling slightly, “you have the child to consider. What’s her name?”

“Her name is of no matter to you,” was Jean’s hot response. “She is mine, not yours.”

“I’m rather glad of that,” he responded. “But I don’t think this is really a fit opportunity to waste time in mutual recrimination.”

“No. Go, I tell you. If you remain longer, it will be dangerous—dangerous for us both.”

He looked at the clock, and then his gaze wandered to the closed jewel-case upon the Louis Quinze table. The small room, closed as it was, was filled with the perfume of the great bunch of flowers in the long Chinese vase—a perfume that seemed almost overpowering.

“But I tell you I see no danger,” was his careless reply, for it seemed his object to taunt her. He had already hinted at a continued tax upon her resources if she desired him to keep his lips sealed, and she, on her part, realising his true character, clearly foresaw that all her efforts could have but one result. To satisfy his demands would be impossible.

A shadow had fallen upon her eventful life, one that would never again be lifted.

“Will you have no pity for me?” she implored. “Have you come here with the express intent of goading me to madness?”

“No—simply in order to have a straight talk with you—a chat between husband and wife.”

“Well, we have had it. Take the pearls and go. Get clear away before you are discovered. Bracondale may now be back at any moment,” she added in fear of his sudden return.

“I’m in no great hurry, I assure you,” was his reply, as he seated himself upon the arm of a chair.

“Give me the letter, Ralph. Do—if you please.”

He laughed in her face, his hands stuck in his jacket pockets, as was his habit.

She looked around her with an expression of terror and despair. She listened, for she fancied she heard a footstep.

They both listened, but no other sound could be distinguished.

“A false alarm,” remarked the man. Then, suddenly rising from where he was seated, he placed his hand in his breast pocket, and, drawing out his wallet, took therefrom the well-worn letter.

“Well,” he said reluctantly, “here you are. I suppose you’d better have it. And now you can’t say but what I’m not generous—can you?”

Jean almost snatched the precious note from his fingers, glanced at it to reassure herself that she was not being tricked, and then, striking a match which she took from a side-table, she applied it to one corner of the farewell letter, and held it till only a black piece of crackling tinder remained.

“Now you are satisfied, I hope,” he remarked in a harsh voice.

“Yes. Take the pearls. Take the box, and go,” she urged quickly, placing her hand upon his arm to emphasise her words, and pushing him across to the table where stood the big morocco case.

“All right,” he laughed. “Let’s look at these wonderful pearls of yours. I wonder how much they are worth?”

He halted at the table, fingering the spring-fastening of the case, and at last raised the lid.

It was empty!

“You vixen! You infernal woman!” he cried, turning upon her, white with anger, and with clenched fists. “You’ve played a slick trick on me—you’ve had me—and now—by gad! I—I’ll have my revenge!”