Stephen smiled contemptuously.
“My good friend, this matter has passed beyond your strength. Leave it to me. Yes, they are engaged; the affair has gone so far, but it must go no further. While you have been lurking outside area gates and behind carriages I have been at work, and I will stop it. I am not too proud to accept your aid, however. When the time comes I will ask your aid. Give me an address to which to write to you.”
Gideon Rolfe, with a suspicious air, drew a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote an address.
“This will find you?” said Stephen. “Good. When the time comes I will send for you; meanwhile”—and he smiled—“you can go on haunting area gates and watching carriages, but be sure of one thing, that this marriage shall never take place.”
Gideon Rolfe watched the pale face grimly.
“I must know more,” he said. “How will you put an end to this?”
Stephen smiled. It was not a pleasant smile.
“You want to see the modus operandi? How the conjurer is going to perform the wonderful feat? Well, it is very simple. My friend and somewhat cousin, for all his romance, will not care to marry a girl whose name is stained with shame. If I know my dear Jack, he will not care to make an illegitimate child of Gideon Rolfe, the woodman, Mrs. Newcombe.”
Gideon Rolfe started.
“You will tell him?” he said, hoarsely.