"I am afraid I am utterly in the dark, Lawrence," said Charlton.
"Are you? There is a well in that courtyard. And if perchance anything valuable got into that well, I should say that a rope would be the best way of getting it out. Now do you understand."
Charlton nodded. It had been his whim and mood after the tragic death of his wife to leave those fatal jewels where that wicked woman had dropped them. So far as he was concerned the cause of all the trouble might be at the bottom of the sea. They were gone, and only he and another person knew the secret of their hiding place. That she might come back and try to regain them he never troubled himself about. Even if it had occurred to him, he would not have moved in the matter.
"That fiend probably told some accomplice," he said.
Lawrence chuckled. He could see further than his companion. He could see the figure of a woman dressed in foreign fashion with a shawl over her head. She had long fair hair. Her back was to the window all this time.
"The Spaniard with the mantilla," Lawrence whispered, "the evil genius of the house. We shall see something more presently. Not that we are going to interfere. On the whole, I rather want these people to get the jewels."
Charlton said nothing. He was deeply interested. The man outside raised the lantern, and the dim light fell upon the ghastly outline of Charlton's white set face as he pressed against the panes. At the same instant the woman chanced to glance in the same direction.
Charlton gripped Lawrence's arm with convulsive force.
"Man," he said sternly, "that fiend of a woman was my dead wife's late companion."
