"But let me tell you what his offer was. I don't know why I
listened to it. I ought to have at once informed the police. I
wish I had."

"It might have saved him from his fate."

"Every villain gets his deserts in the long run," she said, with
bitter sententiousness. "And this Mr. Quadling is--But wait, you
shall know him better. He came to me to propose--what do you
think?--that he--his bank, I mean--should secretly repay me the
amount of my deposit, all the money I had in it. To join me in his
fraud, in fact--"

"The scoundrel! Upon my word, he has been well served. And that
was the last you saw of him?"

"I saw him on the journey, at Turin, at Modane, at--Oh, Sir
Charles, do not ask me any more about him!" she cried, with a
sudden outburst, half-grief, half-dread. "I cannot tell you--I am
obliged to--I--I--"

"Then do not say another word," he said, promptly.

"There are other things. But my lips are sealed--at least for the
present. You do not--will not think any worse of me?"

She laid her hand gently on his arm, and his closed over it with
such evident good-will that a blush crimsoned her cheek. It still
hung there, and deepened when he said, warmly: