"You are Robert Darcy's wife," he said slowly, trying to adjust his ideas to this altered state of affairs. Then, as some comprehension of the results which would follow this declaration dawned upon him, he continued: —

"Why have you told me this?"

"Because I need your co-operation, and you're the only man I know whom I can trust to keep the secret."

"I've given you no pledge to do so."

"Quite true, and I've asked for none; but I've misread you sadly, if you can't keep a still tongue in your head, when the advantage to all concerned by so doing can be made clear to you."

"Can you prove your point?"

"Yes, even to your satisfaction."

"I'm all attention," he said.

"In the first place," she began, "you must understand that Colonel Darcy and I were secretly married four years ago, in Ireland. I'll show you my marriage certificate, to prove my words, when we return to the house. I always carry it with me in case of an emergency."

Kent-Lauriston nodded, and she continued: —

"The Colonel married me under the impression that I was an heiress. I married him because I thought I loved him. We both discovered our mistakes within the first few days. No one knew of the step we had taken, so we agreed to separate. This is a practical age. As Miss Fitzgerald I'd hosts of friends; as Mrs. Darcy, a girl who had made a worse than foolish marriage, I should have had none. The Colonel had expected his wife to support him; he was in no condition to support her. His regiment was ordered to India; if he resigned, his income was gone. We decided to keep our secret. I remained Miss Fitzgerald. He went to India. Three years later he was invalided home. Travelling for his health, he returned by way of South America. There he met Inez De Costa, and won her love. She combined the two things he most craved, position and wealth. He had heard nothing from me for many months. He allowed his inclinations to guide his reason, and, trusting that I was dead, or had done something foolish, he married her and returned to England. We met. My natural impulse was to denounce him, but sober second thought showed the futility of such a course. I'd nothing to gain; everything to lose. He sent me money. I returned it. Do you believe that?"

"I believe you implicitly," replied Kent-Lauriston.

"Then he came to see me; for I think he still loved me. He came, I say, fearfully at first, lest I should betray him. Then growing bolder, he threw off all reserve. Believing, fool that he was, because I didn't denounce him, that I could ever forget or forgive the wrong he'd done me. He mistook compliance for forgetfulness, even had the audacity to suggest that I, too, should marry.

"Then this scheme for defeating the treaty was proposed to him. He was willing enough to undertake it, for his second matrimonial venture had been a pecuniary failure, thanks to the wisdom of Señor De Costa in tying up his daughter's property; but he lacked the brains to carry it out, and, like the fool that he is, came to me for assistance. I had lulled his suspicions, and he needed a confederate. He even held out vague promises of a future for us both, as if I'd believe his attested oath, after what had passed! I consented to help him, and would have brought the matter to a successful issue, if it hadn't been for his stupidity. What did I care about the success or failure of his plot? It had put the man in my power, put him where I wanted to have him. At any time within the last six weeks I could have forced him to publicly recognise me, if need were."

"What prevented you from doing this?"

"I'd fallen in love with your friend. Yes, I admit it. It was weak, pitiably weak. At first I played with him, then too late I understood my own feelings."

"But it could have come to nothing."

"Can you suppose I didn't realise that keenly? Yet I hoped against hope that Darcy would die; that he'd be apprehended and imprisoned, and perish of the rigours of hard labour; anything that would set me free. Then I saw that Stanley loved Inez De Costa. It was an added pang, but it caused me to hesitate; because in taking my revenge, I should wreck both their lives."

"But you? Had you pity for Inez De Costa?"

"Yes, incomprehensible as it may seem to you; for I'd learned to loathe Darcy before he had committed bigamy. I never met her till that night at the Hyde Park Club, and she asked me if I knew her husband. Her husband! I pitied her from that moment. She'd done me no wrong. Why should I wreck her life, if it could be avoided?"

"And now?"

"Now you've solved the problem. Darcy won't dare to contest the suit for divorce. He'll be glad to get rid of her, because he can't control her money. Having the purse-strings, I can force him to recognise me as his wife, after the divorce has been granted. I shall have an assured position, and I can begin to pay back some of my debts," and her eyes flashed.

"And in all this, what is there to compel me to keep your secret?"

"Because the marriage between Inez De Costa and Mr. Stanley might never take place if they knew the truth. I'll keep the secret if you will. She's in no way to blame. At first I hated her; now that I've known her, my hate is turned to pity."

"You're right," said Kent-Lauriston. "I'll keep your secret inviolate."

"Now about the receipt for the forty thousand pounds."

"Yes?"

"I think Mr. Stanley had better see it, it'll save further awkwardness, but I must have it back. It's my one hold over Darcy, my one chance of righting myself."

"There's a receipt for the amount," said Kent-Lauriston, tearing out a leaf from his note-book, on which he wrote a few lines. "I'll be responsible for its return to you. I can't do less."

"Here comes Lieutenant Kingsland now," she said. "Don't say anything. I'll manage this affair."

"Jack!" she called, "come here a moment."

The young officer approached.

"Yes?" he said interrogatively.

"You needn't hesitate to speak before Mr. Kent-Lauriston," she assured him. "He's one of my best friends. You've not forgotten the promise which you made me, when I helped you about arranging your wedding, to do anything I might request?"

"No, and I'd do it if the occasion required," he replied heartily.

"Good," she said, "the occasion is here."

"What must I do?"

"You hold in your possession a receipt from the Victoria Street Branch of the Bank of England for the deposit in my name of five chests belonging to Mr. Riddle."

"Yes, I've been meaning to give it to you."

"I wish you to give it to Mr. Stanley."

"To Mr. Stanley?"

"Yes."

"Is that all?"

"All, except that I charge you, on your honour, never to let him know I asked you to do this. Tell him only that I gave you the chests, and how you disposed of them, and place the receipt in his hands, as coming from yourself. Not a syllable about me, mind!"

"I'll follow your instructions literally; but how am I to have the opportunity of doing this?"

"Mr. Stanley will give you the opportunity, perhaps to-day. Then see that you do it."

"I promise."

"Swear."

"Well, I swear on my honour as an officer and a gentleman."

"Good. One more word. Before to-night you may change your feelings towards me, may feel absolved from all obligations to me; but whatever events occur, do not forget that you have sworn to do this on your honour as an officer and as a gentleman, without any mental reservations whatsoever, and to do neither less nor more than this."

"You can trust me, and if you think that anything my wife – "

"No! no! I do trust you. Go now, and give Mr. Stanley a chance to see you at once. You'll be serving me best so."

He left them wondering, and, she, turning to Kent-Lauriston, said: —

"I tell you it is the greatest proof of my affection for him; for what he thinks of me is worth all the criticism of the world and more. Oh, you may scoff! I know you think him too good for me!"

"Pardon me," interrupted Kent-Lauriston, taking off his hat, and bowing his head over her hand, which he held, "I have misunderstood you."

It was nearly two hours later that the Secretary found time, amidst the distractions of a hurried departure, for he had made his peace with his hostess and was leaving for town that afternoon, to redeem his promise to Lady Isabelle.

"Is Lieutenant Kingsland in the house?" he asked of the servant, who answered his summons.

"He's in the billiard-room, sir."

"Very well. Will you present my compliments to him, and ask him to be so kind as to come to my room for a few minutes?"

In less time than it takes to tell it, the young officer responded to the summons, saying as he entered: —

"Here I am. Can I do anything for you?"

"Perhaps. But I sent for you primarily for the purpose of doing you a favour."

"That sounds encouraging. By the way, did you know that your especial admiration, Darcy, was planning to vacate at the earliest opportunity?"

"Yes," replied the Secretary, drily. "I gave him leave to go, but he's to all intents and purposes under arrest."

"The devil!"

"Quite so, there's the devil to pay, and I'm afraid you may have to foot part of the bill, if you're not careful."

"What do you mean?" cried the Lieutenant, starting uneasily.

"I'll explain. That's why I sent for you; but you mustn't resent a certain inquisitiveness on my part. It's only for your good."

"Go on, go on!"

"You went to London a few days ago, and executed a commission for Darcy."

"No – for Belle Fitzgerald."

"It's the same thing."

"I think not. There were some chests containing stereopticon slides, and Belle asked me to put them in a bank for her."

"The Victoria Street Branch of the Bank of England."

"Exactly."

"A good many slides, I imagine; rather heavy, weren't they?"

"Gad, I should think they were. It took two porters to lift each chest."

"I suppose you told the bank authorities what was in the chests?"

"No, I was told there was nothing to say. I was only to surrender them, and a sealed note, which would explain all."

"Did they give you a receipt for it?"

"Yes."

"Can anybody get the chests out?"

"No, only the person mentioned in the receipt."

"Have you still got the receipt?"

"Yes."

"Very good," said the Secretary. "I see your luck has not deserted you."

"And now," said Kingsland, "that I've answered all your questions, perhaps you'll tell me what you mean."

"This is what I mean," replied Stanley, handing him that first part of his Minister's letter which he had shown to Darcy.

The Lieutenant read it once, not understanding its purport; then again, his brow becoming wrinkled with anxiety; and yet again, with a very white face.

"What is it?" he gasped.

"It looks dangerously like treason, doesn't it?" returned the Secretary.

"But what is this bribe?"

"You ought to know that, as you carried it up to London, in sovereigns."

"What – how much was it?"

"Forty thousand pounds in gold."

"Good heavens!" said the Lieutenant, and mopped his brow. "But I didn't know anything about it!"

"That doesn't prevent you from having participated in one of the most rascally plots of your day and generation; from being a party in an attempt to overthrow, by the most open and shameless bribery, a treaty pending between the government you serve and mine."

"But, if this gets out, I'll be cashiered from the navy."

"Oh, I don't think they'd stop there," said the Secretary reassuringly. "Not with the proof of that receipt."

"Good Lord, I forgot that! Here, take it, will you?"

"Certainly. Suppose we open it and see if it proves my assertion," and, suiting the action to the word, he placed in the Lieutenant's shaking hands a receipt of deposit in the Victoria Street Branch of the Bank of England, by Miss Isabelle Fitzgerald, kindness of Lieutenant J. Kingsland, of forty thousand pounds.

"Can't you help me?" he asked.

"It rests entirely with me."

"Then you will?"

"Tell me all you know.

"But I don't know anything, except what I've told you. I give you my word as an officer and a gentleman, that I've been let into this affair in a most shameful manner, and that I'm entirely innocent, and ignorant of everything connected with it."

"I believe you, Lieutenant Kingsland."

"And you won't prosecute?"

"Not if you'll promise to drop this gang; they're a bad lot. Promise me you'll cut loose from them as soon as possible, for your wife's sake."

"I will," he said. "I will, old man. I can't thank you enough for what you've done."

"You've nothing to thank me for; I'm sure you are innocent, and so I don't consider the circumstantial evidence; but you might not be as lucky another time. I hope this will be a lesson to you. I need hardly caution you to silence," and he appeared to peruse some papers to ease the young officer's exit from the room.

That evening in the privacy of the library, the Lieutenant confided the news of his lucky escape to his wife, ending up with the question:

"Do you think the Fitzgerald really loves him?"

"My dear Jack," said Lady Isabelle, "a woman of that stamp does not know what love means, she's simply scheming to marry him for his money. How can people do such things?"

"I'm sure I don't know, my dear," replied her spouse, yawning. The subject was inopportune, and it bored him.

CHAPTER XL
THE PRICE OF A LIE

Stanley had made all his adieux, or at least all he wanted to make. He was tired with the exciting events of the day, and longed for a little peace and quiet before the exacting ordeal of a railway ride to London. He had given up the time-table as a Chinese puzzle. "What with the trains that go somewhere and those that don't," he protested, "I'm all at sea!" He, therefore, sent Kent-Lauriston ahead in the trap, and walked across the park to the station.

That gentleman had convinced him of the propriety of restoring the order for the forty thousand pounds to Miss Fitzgerald. He had pointed out that she was the rightful owner of the document, and that Darcy was an infernal rascal. The Secretary had acquiesced in his demand, and promised, should he not see Belle before he left, an interview he much wished to avoid, that he would mail it to her from the station.

He had first, however, a far more pleasant commission to perform, and a few minutes later was seated under the spreading branches of an old apple tree with Inez Darcy.

"I felt I must come and see you," he said. "I'm going away to-day, to London, on important business."

"Yes," she murmured. "You've been very good to me."

"Some time ago," he continued, "you did me the honour to entrust your affairs to my keeping, or, perhaps, to the keeping of the Legation."

"To your keeping, I should prefer."

"I fear that you may think I've been remiss, that other things have taken my mind off them, that I've, in short, forgotten them, but it is not so."

"I never doubted you."

"I hope to prove to you that you've not misplaced your confidence, in evidence of which I bring you this," and he handed her a paper.

"What is it?" she said.

"A line from your husband," she started, "which gives you your freedom."

"You mean a divorce?"

"Yes."

"But I do not understand."

"He agreed to consent to your obtaining such a decree on any ground you choose. I've decided on 'incompatibility of temper,' as being the least embarrassing to you. He will not appear to contest the suit when it is brought forward. This paper, signed in my presence, promises as much."

"My husband is a bad man, he would never have surrendered unless he was forced to do so; for he believes that by retaining the control of me, he may yet obtain control of my property."

"Perhaps he has seen the futility of these hopes."

"No, no, his own self-conceit would have blinded him to the possibility of being outwitted. You've forced this from him. How have you done so?"

"I had hoped you would not press me for these reasons. Can't you accept my assurance that whatever I've done, has been done in your interests alone."

"Don't think me ungrateful if I say no, but I've had to endure so many mysteries, that, for once, my great desire is to be clear of them."

"I hesitate to tell you, because it may give you pain."

"I am used to that and can bear it."

"Well, if you will have it. Colonel Darcy, as a result of his own actions, was placed in my power."

"You mean that it was your duty to have him arrested?"

"That was left to my discretion."

"And you forced his consent?"

"No, I gave him a chance to purchase his freedom, and a substantial reward, by a confession, and this – " and he touched the paper.

"But had you a right – ?"

"I had a right to make any terms I pleased. I was given unlimited power to impose my own conditions, and I'm sure, had my Chief known, he would have wished you to derive any benefit possible from the transaction."

"It's dearly bought with that man's disgrace. In the eyes of the world, he will still be my husband."

"There will be no disgrace."

"I do not understand."

"The government doesn't wish to punish Colonel Darcy; it merely wishes for his evidence, to aid in the detection of others."

"But his name will appear."

"It is strictly stipulated that it shall not do so; be assured your secret is safe."

"And he could have sunk so low as to sell himself and those who trusted him."

"They were criminals."

"It doesn't lessen his treachery."

"Don't waste a thought on him, least of all any sentimental emotion. He wasted little enough on you, and would have insulted you in my presence, had I permitted it; he sold your freedom with less compunction than he sold his honour or his friends."

"Enough!" she cried, her eyes sparkling. "He is forgotten. We will speak of something else. Let me use my time to better purpose, by trying to thank you – to begin to thank you, for all you've done for me."

"You can repay me if you like."

"What is the payment, then, for which you ask?"

"My Chief has received a request from your father this morning, that you be put in charge of some responsible person, to come home to him."

"Ah!" she said, "that is no favour, it is good news."

"You must hear me out. Your father requested the Minister to nominate your escort."

"Well?"

"He has nominated me."

"What, are you going home?"

"Almost at once. Will you trust yourself in my hands?"

"Trust you! I will go with you anywhere! I will trust you always!"

"Perhaps," he said, looking down into her eyes, as he stood before her, "I shall ask you to fulfil those promises some day."

"Perhaps," she replied, rising and standing by his side, "I shall then be free to answer you," and a radiant smile lit up her face.

They took each other's hands, and stood silent for a long time. Then he bade her good-bye, and resumed his walk to the station.

Midway in his path, a figure lying prone in the tall grass roused itself into action at his coming, sprang up and stood facing him, flushed, defiant, and on the verge of tears.

It was the last person in the world Stanley wished to see – Belle Fitzgerald. He had felt it was impossible to meet her again; that she had put herself beyond the pale of his recognition; that it was not even decent that she should face him; that he should have been left to forget; and she, seeing all this in his face, and more – longed to throw her good resolutions to the winds, and cry out against this great injustice. But as they stood there, her subtle woman's instinct told her that, even were her innocence proclaimed with the trumpet, the thought that it had been otherwise would stand between them as an insurmountable barrier for ever, and she hardened her heart for his sake.

"You are going away," she said.

"Yes," he replied, looking down at the road. She told herself passionately, that he would look anywhere rather than at her.

"Some of your property has come into my possession," he said. "I wish to return it to you," and he handed her the receipt for the forty thousand pounds.

"I'll trust you'll see," he continued, in a strained voice, "that Colonel Darcy has his proper share."

"He shall have what he deserves," she replied coldly; and then she burst out, her words tumbling one over the other, now that she had found speech: "You ought to know, you must know, that when Colonel Darcy is free, we shall be man and wife."

"I'm very glad," he said, and he said it from his heart.

There was an awkward pause, neither seemed able to speak. At length he remarked, more to break the silence than anything: —

"You know, I always thought, that, in your heart, you loved Darcy, before anyone else."

She laughed her hard, cold laugh, saying: —

"You diplomats know everything."

The Secretary bowed silently and passed on, well satisfied to close the interview; his thoughts full of the brilliant future which was opening before him, unconscious that behind him, face down in the grass, a woman was sobbing her heart out.