"It wasn't to me at first. But Markoff made it clear. He didn't try direct blackmail against the Duke. He was afraid, I think, that Claremanagh would fight—even though he'd hate scandal for his wife's sake. I was the catspaw. Markoff really did have letters which I had sent him in those hateful days when I had to content him with a pretense of spying. There were always those to hold over my head. And he threatened to order the wearing of those wretched false pearls again as an open insult to the Duchess. He thought that, for answer, she would wear the real ones! Then he would be sure they were in New York, and he might have the chance at last which he'd been trying for all these years: the chance to steal them."
"By Jove, you are unravelling the whole mystery!" Jack broke out. But Lyda shook her head. "No! I'm afraid you'll not think that when you've heard what's to come," she said. "I'm afraid I shall make the mystery even deeper. I was faced with shame for myself and the ruin of Claremanagh's happiness—through my fault—my seeming selfishness. The alternative was money—oh, but a great sum of money—enough to console Markoff for giving up his hope of the pearls. Never till then had I told Claremanagh of Markoff's tyranny. But for his own sake and mine I had to explain something. We consulted—about what was best to be done. Claremanagh wished to do what he called 'wave the red flag.' But I made him realize what his wife's feelings would be if he were mixed up in such a case at law, with me. At last we agreed that it would be wise to pay Markoff and be free of him. I earn a great deal of money, and—spend it. It took some time to get the sum together. I sold nearly all my jewels, and what I didn't sell, I pawned. Still there wasn't enough, and Claremanagh came to the rescue. He said it was for himself—but of course it was far more for me! It was only when the money was every sou in hand that I dared give back the imitation pearls. I went to do that when you met me at the door: to do that and to hand Claremanagh two thirds of the hush-money for Markoff. The rest he had ready in his safe. He offered—he wanted—to meet the man and exchange the money for the letters. Now, Captain Manners, you know the whole history of the 'Pavoya'-Claremanagh affair. But perhaps you don't yet understand all the reasons why I've told it, two hours after we were introduced to each other—you and I!"
Her eyes challenged him. Jack saw that she wished him to understand, and so he did not mean to make a mistake. He thought before he spoke.
"I wonder?" he said. "I could be more sure where I am if I knew whether you're in the secret of Pat's doings to-night."
Lyda looked puzzled and pale. "His doings—to-night? No, last night he saw Markoff and got back the letters. But to-night's doings—no. I am not in the secret—if there is a secret."
Jack caught at her words. He was intensely excited by what she had told him, but he kept his outward coolness. Lyda had gone through a great strain. He did not care to alarm her needlessly.
"You say Pat saw Markoff, and got the letters. You're sure of that?"
"Yes, he sent me the letters with a short note, just after receiving them, saying 'all was right.'"
"Did the note come from home?"
"No, from a club: the 'Grumblers'. It was written rather late."