and the only kind thing he could do was to provide for me in my widowhood,
like the true nobleman he was!'

'A very pretty explanation!' said Mr. Troy. 'What did your visitors
from the insurance offices think of it?'

'They asked if I had any proof of my husband's death.'
'And what did you say?'

'I said, "I give you better than proof, gentlemen; I give you
my positive opinion."'

'That satisfied them, of course?'
'They didn't say so in words, sir. They looked at each other--

and wished me good-morning.'
'Well, Mrs. Ferrari, unless you have some more extraordinary

news for me, I think I shall wish you good-morning too.
I can take a note of your information (very startling information,

I own); and, in the absence of proof, I can do no more.'
'I can provide you with proof, sir--if that is all you want,'

said Mrs. Ferrari, with great dignity. 'I only wish
to know, first, whether the law justifies me in doing it.

You may have seen in the fashionableintelligence of the newspapers,
that Lady Montbarry has arrived in London, at Newbury's Hotel.

I propose to go and see her.'
'The deuce you do! May I ask for what purpose?'

Mrs. Ferrari answered in a mysteriouswhisper. 'For the purpose
of catching her in a trap! I shan't send in my name--I shall

announce myself as a person on business, and the first words I say
to her will be these: "I come, my lady, to acknowledge the receipt

of the money sent to Ferrari's widow." Ah! you may well start,
Mr. Troy! It almost takes you off your guard, doesn't it?

Make your mind easy, sir; I shall find the proof that everybody
asks me for in her guilty face. Let her only change colour by

the shadow of a shade--let her eyes only drop for half an instant--
I shall discover her! The one thing I want to know is, does the law

permit it?'
'The law permits it,' Mr. Troy answered gravely; 'but whether her

ladyship will permit it, is quite another question. Have you really
courage enough, Mrs. Ferrari, to carry out this notablescheme of yours?

You have been described to me, by Miss Lockwood, as rather a nervous,
timid sort of person--and, if I may trust my own observation,

I should say you justify the description.'
'If you had lived in the country, sir, instead of living in London,'

Mrs. Ferrari replied, 'you would sometimes have seen even a sheep
turn on a dog. I am far from saying that I am a bold woman--

quite the reverse. But when I stand in that wretch's presence, and think
of my murdered husband, the one of us two who is likely to be frightened

is not me. I am going there now, sir. You shall hear how it ends.
I wish you good-morning.'

With those brave words the courier's wife gathered her mantle about her,
and walked out of the room.

Mr. Troy smiled--not satirically, but compassionately.
'The little simpleton!' he thought to himself. 'If half of what

they say of Lady Montbarry is true, Mrs. Ferrari and her trap
have but a poor prospect before them. I wonder how it will end?'

All Mr. Troy's experience failed to forewarn him of how it did end.
CHAPTER X

In the mean time, Mrs. Ferrari held to her resolution.
She went straight from Mr. Troy's office to Newbury's Hotel.

Lady Montbarry was at home, and alone. But the authorities
of the hotel hesitated to disturb her when they found that the

visitor declined to mention her name. Her ladyship's new maid
happened to cross the hall while the matter was still in debate.

She was a Frenchwoman, and, on being appealed to, she settled
the question in the swift, easy, rational French way.

'Madame's appearance was perfectlyrespectable. Madame might have
reasons for not mentioning her name which Miladi might approve.

In any case, there being no orders forbidding the introduction of a
strange lady, the matter clearly rested between Madame and Miladi.

Would Madame, therefore, be good enough to follow Miladi's maid up
the stairs?'

In spite of her resolution, Mrs. Ferrari's heart beat as if it
would burst out of her bosom, when her conductress led her into

an ante-room, and knocked at a door opening into a room beyond.
But it is remarkable that persons of sensitively-nervous organisation

are the very persons who are capable of forcing themselves
(apparently by the exercise of a spasmodic effort of will)

into the performance of acts of the most audacious courage.
A low, grave voice from the inner room said, 'Come in.' The maid,

opening the door, announced, 'A person to see you, Miladi, on business,'
and immediately retired. In the one instant while these events passed,

timid little Mrs. Ferrari mastered her own throbbing heart;
stepped over the threshold, conscious of her clammy hands, dry lips,

and burning head; and stood in the presence of Lord Montbarry's widow,
to all outward appearance as supremely self-possessed as her

ladyship herself.
It was still early in the afternoon, but the light in the room was dim.

The blinds were drawn down. Lady Montbarry sat with her back to
the windows, as if even the subdued daylight were disagreeable to her.

She had altered sadly for the worse in her personal appearance,
since the memorable day when Doctor Wybrow had seen her in his

consulting-room. Her beauty was gone--her face had fallen away
to mere skin and bone; the contrast between her ghastly complexion

and her steely glittering black eyes was more startling than ever.
Robed in dismal black, relieved only by the brilliant whiteness

of her widow's cap--reclining in a panther-like suppleness of
attitude on a little green sofa--she looked at the stranger who had

intruded on her, with a moment's languidcuriosity, then dropped
her eyes again to the hand-screen which she held between her face

and the fire. 'I don't know you,' she said. 'What do you want
with me?'

Mrs. Ferrari tried to answer. Her first burst of courage had already
worn itself out. The bold words that she had determined to speak

were living words still in her mind, but they died on her lips.
There was a moment of silence. Lady Montbarry looked round

again at the speechless stranger. 'Are you deaf?' she asked.
There was another pause. Lady Montbarry quietly looked back again

at the screen, and put another question. 'Do you want money?'
'Money!' That one word roused the sinking spirit of the courier's wife.

She recovered her courage; she found her voice. 'Look at me, my lady,
if you please,' she said, with a sudden outbreak of audacity.

Lady Montbarry looked round for the third time. The fatal words
passed Mrs. Ferrari's lips.

'I come, my lady, to acknowledge the receipt of the money sent
to Ferrari's widow.'

Lady Montbarry's glittering black eyes rested with steady
attention on the woman who had addressed her in those terms.

Not the faintest expression of confusion or alarm, not even a momentary
flutter of interest stirred the deadlystillness of her face.

She reposed as quietly, she held the screen as composedly, as ever.
The test had been tried, and had utterly failed.

There was another silence. Lady Montbarry considered with herself.
The smile that came slowly and went away suddenly--the smile

at once so sad and so cruel--showed itself on her thin lips.
She lifted her screen, and pointed with it to a seat at the

farther end of the room. 'Be so good as to take that chair,'
she said.

Helpless under her first bewildering sense of failure--not knowing
what to say or what to do next--Mrs. Ferrari mechanically obeyed.

Lady Montbarry, rising on the sofa for the first time, watched her
with undisguised scrutiny as she crossed the room--then sank back