Kent-Lauriston reluctantly acquiesced, and Stanley, putting the incriminating letters carefully in an inside pocket, bade him good-night, and left the smoking-room. In the hall he met Lady Isabelle.

"I don't know what you'll think of me for coming to you, Mr. Stanley,"

she said, "after what has pa.s.sed this evening."

"I think myself an infernal a.s.s, for I've found out the truth of the matter since I left you, and I think you're very good to overlook it, and very condescending to speak to me at all."

"Do not let us talk of that," she said.

"Agreed," he replied. "Only permit me to say, I'd the parson's solemn a.s.surance that he'd not married you, and, however unadvisedly I may have spoken, I spoke in good faith."

"I quite understand," she returned. "But now you know the truth."

"I do, and I'm very much ashamed of myself."

She smiled, a trifle sadly, and changed the subject abruptly, saying:--

"I've come to ask you a great favour. In the face of the past I almost hesitate to do so, but there's no one else to whom I can turn--and so----"

"Anything I can do----" he began.

"I only want to ask you a question."

"Only a question!"

"Yet, I hesitate to ask even that--because it concerns a lady in whom you're interested."

"Miss Fitzgerald?"

"Yes."

"You need have no hesitation," he said coldly.

"I'm sure you will not misunderstand me," she continued.

He bowed silently.

"After you left us, I questioned Miss Fitzgerald about the part she'd played in my marriage."

Stanley nodded.

"You can understand that I was very angry. Whose feelings would not have been outraged at discovering that they'd been so played upon? I'm sure that my husband was as innocent of the deception as I."

She paused a second, but the Secretary did not speak, and she continued, afraid, perhaps, that he might say something to overthrow her theory.

"I dare say I forgot myself--in fact I'm sure I did--and said things that I now regret; but in the heat of the argument she taunted me with the fact that she had it in her power to have my husband cashiered from the navy, if she chose to tell what she knew. Is this true?"

"Did she specify what he'd done?" asked Stanley, the horrid suspicion that Belle was not innocent once more rea.s.serting itself with increased force.

"No, but she said it was something he'd done in London, during his present absence."

"My G.o.d!" murmured the Secretary, as the full force and meaning of this avowal became apparent to him, and he saw that Belle must be fully cognisant of the plot.

"Don't tell me it's true!" cried Lady Isabelle.

"I'm afraid it is," he replied.

"But that my husband could be guilty of----"

"I didn't say that," he interjected. "He may be merely an innocent instrument; but he might have difficulty in proving it, if the charges were made."

"But what are the charges?"

"Ah! That you must not ask me."

"You know?"

"Perhaps, but you must be content to be sure that, had I the right to tell you, I would do so."

"But what is to be done?"

"Nothing. The threat is an empty one. Miss Fitzgerald will make no charges against your husband; I will guarantee that, and it may transpire that the Lieutenant has done nothing worse than deliver some cases, of the contents of which he was ignorant, to oblige a friend."

"But if she could prove that he _did_ deliver them, he might be charged with complicity?"

"Exactly."

"Can I not warn him?"

"No, Lady Isabelle, you owe it to me to keep silence, at least for the next few days. In telling you this, to relieve your anxiety, I have exceeded my instructions, and placed my honour in your hands."

"It shall be held sacred; but who is to warn my husband?"

"I'll do so, if you wish."

"I can never be sufficiently grateful, if you will."

"Then we'll consider that settled," he said.

"You've been a true friend to me," she replied, taking his hand, "and I've ill repaid you for your kindness."

"Don't think of that," he said, and turned away, heavy-hearted; for now he fancied he knew the worst.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

MISS FITZGERALD BURNS HER BOATS