tired of 'em. You continually throw in my face that you hold the strings
of the purse. Well, tie them up as far as I'm concerned. I won't whine.
I'd rather have that happen than be tyrannized over any longer."

She was much shaken. And there was a sting in this reproach that carried
home to her; there was just a sufficient edge of truth to wound her. Had
there been much light, she could have read his face; the dimness of the
hall was saving Vance, and he knew it.

"God knows I'd like to believe that you haven't had anything to do with
it. But you and I are the only two people in the world who know the
secret of it--"

He pretended to guess. "It's something about Terence? Something about his
father?"

Again she was disarmed. If he were guilty, it was strange that he should
approach the subject so openly. And she began to doubt.

"Vance, he knows everything! Everything except the real name of Black
Jack!"

"Good heavens!"

She strained her eyes through the shadows to make out his real
expression; but there seemed to be a real horror in his restrained
whisper.

"It isn't possible, Elizabeth!"