Clara paled somewhat as she recognized the visitor, but she kept her head. She evidently meant to see things through. Carson shrank back at the sight of Aldean as though expectant of a blow, and collapsed into a chair nerveless and terrified. Jim looked on grimly.
"Well, Mr. Carson," he said, in no very amiable tone, "you have given me a considerable amount of trouble. What have you to say for yourself?"
"What need he say?" cried Clara, seeing that her accomplice was incapable of speech. "How dare you come in here uninvited, Lord Aldean?"
"Dare is not a word, young woman, that I am accustomed to hear from domestic servants."
"I am no servant," replied Clara, with a flash of anger.
"Thought not," said Jim, coolly. "I never believed you were, but I hardly expected to find that your real profession was that of spy."
"A spy, a spy! What do you mean?"
"Oh, I think you know pretty well. The report you made to your uncle Jeremiah was the work of a spy."
"My uncle!" gasped Clara, steadying herself by the table. "Yes; your uncle. I know all about him, so does Mr. Mallow, so does Miss Bellairs."
"My wife?" murmured Carson, speaking for the first time.