"But you know," Biddy appealed to me, "that melodramatic things have happened to me and those near me. I'm not even sure that poor Richard's death was natural, though I watched over him like a hawk in those dreadful days when he was fearing every shadow, and we were flitting from pillar to post, with Esmé. Through Richard two men were electrocuted. He used to get threatening letters forwarded from place to place, always signed with the same initials, and he wouldn't tell me what they meant. It was because of them that he hid Esmé in a convent-school before he died; for she was threatened as well as he. I, too, for the matter of that! Not that the child or I had done the organization any harm; but Esmé is of his blood, and they may have thought I had more of their secrets than I really have. I've not used the name of O'Brien for years now, and I've moved about so much that sometimes I have felt I must be safe. Still, I ought perhaps not to have gone to visit Esmé, though she wrote and begged me to, for special reasons I needn't bother you with: a curious little love romance which I fear must end badly. I didn't think of danger to Monny; but you see, as I've told you, the convent isn't far from Monaco. I got off the Laconia there, to visit Esmé, and when I came on board again, Monny and Mrs. East and Rachel came with me. They'd been in Italy and France, and had picked up Miss Guest, who was only too enchanted to batten on Monny's kindness and dollars. It was I who had engaged their staterooms, on a cable from Monny, long before. And if there were a spy anywhere, he might have the idea that I wanted to smuggle Esmé out of her convent by a trick, and—"
"But almost every one must know Miss Gilder's face from her photographs in newspapers," I broke in, on a stifled sob of Biddy's. "She couldn't be mistaken for another girl, as an unimportant young person might."
"I'm not sure. Those photographs were snapshots, and very bad, as you must know if you've ever seen any. Monny never gave a portrait of herself to a newspaper, and it's years since they got hold of a good one. Besides, if she weren't mistaken for Esmé O'Brien, that wretched Bedr might have made up a plot to have her kidnapped for ransom. It was the thing Monny's father was always afraid of—absurdly afraid of, I used to think."
"I think so still," I said. "Such things don't happen—anywhere, to a grown-up girl."
"What about Raisuli in Tangier?" Biddy challenged me. "He used to kidnap people whenever he liked. And so do lots of brigands."
"We haven't to do with brigands."
"Oh, what's in a name? And I wouldn't put anything past that horrid Bedr."
"As Anthony said to you, he knows which side his bread's buttered."
"But if he hopes some one will give him more butter for being wicked than he can get from us for being good?"
"Let's not think of far-fetched contingencies, dear," said I. "Now you've told me all, I will try to do something—"