"Then," she continued, "it may be some satisfaction for you to know that his death will not be altogether unavenged. I know more about it and the reason of it than you can know! I know that he was murdered, brutally murdered, because he had stumbled into the knowledge of some very extraordinary political secrets; and because, as an Englishman, he was striving to do what he believed to be his duty. His enemies were too many and too powerful! But what he began"—she leaned a little forward in her chair—"I mean to finish."
My cousin looked at her gravely.
"But will you not be running the same risk?" he asked.
Her lips parted in quiet scorn.
"A woman does not count the risks, when she has lost, through treachery, the man she cares for," she said quietly. "But for this, I should have been neutral. I am not an Englishwoman myself—in fact, I think my sympathies were with those who are working for her downfall. But everything is changed now! I am going to Paris to-night, and to-morrow I shall see the Minister of War and General Bertillet. One part of this great plot, at any rate, shall go awry."
"Tell me," my cousin asked, "what is—the Great Plot?"
The old habit was powerful with her. She looked nervously about the room.
"I cannot tell you," she answered, "only this! It is a wonderfully thought-out scheme, which, if it were carried out successfully, would mean the downfall of your country. The part of it which I know anything about is the part which secures the neutrality of France, and breaks up the alliance. I mean to prevent that."
"Take me into your confidence, Miss Van Hoyt," Gilbert begged.
She shook her head.