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Updated: June 21, 2025


The room in which the pair stood had been the scene of many a private and momentous conference, and in the big drawing-room upstairs many a Cabinet Minister had bent over the hand of the fair Lady Heyburn.

"It was, of course, clear that Miss Heyburn was jealous of the girl, for she had written to her mother making threats against Miss Bryant's life. Therefore, the plot was that I should drink the fatal wine, and that Miss Gabrielle should be declared to be the murderess, she having intended the wine to be partaken of by the girl she hated with such deadly hatred.

If she wrote, would it lower her dignity in her lover's eyes? That was the great problem which now troubled her. She sat staring before her undecided. She recalled all that Flockart had told her. He was the emissary of Lady Heyburn without a doubt. The girl had told him openly of her decision to speak the truth and expose him, but he had only laughed at her.

And the man took the slim white hand the woman held out to him, and a moment later they ascended the great oak staircase to their respective rooms. The pair were in accord. The future contained for Gabrielle Heyburn asleep and all unconscious of the dastardly conspiracy only that which must be hideous, tragic, fatal.

The family traditions and history of the old place and its owners had induced Sir Henry Heyburn, himself a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, to purchase it from Lord Strathavon, into whose possession it had passed some forty years previously.

"Because well, forgive me for saying so, my dear Flockart because you've been a fool, and have allowed her to know." "It wasn't I; it was the woman." "Lady Heyburn! Why, I always believed her to be the soul of discretion." "She's been too defiant of consequences. A dozen times I've warned her; but she will not heed."

"Perhaps it is because my father places more confidence in me than in her." "And his confidence is surely not misplaced," he said. "I tell you frankly that I don't like Lady Heyburn." "She pretends to like you." "Pretends!" he echoed. "Yes, it's all pretence. But," he added, "do tell me the real reason of your absence last night, Gabrielle. It has worried me." "Why worry, my dear Walter?

Lady Heyburn doesn't give her pearls to be pawned, out of mere friendship, you know." Flockart was silent. He knew too well that the man walking at his side was as clever an intriguer and as bold an adventurer as had ever moved up and down Europe "working the game" in search of pigeons to pluck. His shabbiness was assumed.

Ah! don't imagine that you and Krail have not been very well watched of late," laughed Hamilton. "Do you allege, then, that Lady Heyburn is privy to all this?" asked the blind man in distress. "It is not for me to judge, sir," was Hamilton's reply. "I know! I know how I have been befooled!" cried the poor helpless man, "befooled because I am blind!" "Not by me, Sir Henry," protested Flockart.

He was too occupied by certain grave apprehensions. That morning he had walked in the garden with Lady Heyburn, and had a long chat with her. Her attitude had been peculiar. He could not make her out. She had begged him to promise to leave San Remo, and when asked to tell the reason of this sudden demand she had firmly refused. "You must leave here, Jimmy," she had said quite calmly.

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