And yet Samuel Flower professed that Wilfrid was a perfect stranger to him. There was something here that Beatrice would have to get to the bottom of. Under the shadow of the darkness she could make out nothing of Samuel Flower's profile except that it was hard and set. She was glad enough when the drive came to an end and the house in the square was reached at length.
Cotter stood waiting in the hall. He appeared to be full of eagerness and the desire to speak, when Flower checked him with a malignant frown and a flash of his eyes.
"Presently, you fool," he muttered.
"It won't keep, sir, indeed, it won't," Cotter muttered. "Jansen has been here and must see you to-night. I told him you would not be back till late, but he went away saying he would call again."
Beatrice, glancing up casually at her guardian saw that once more the pale grey tinge had crept over his face. The malignant look had died from his eyes, giving way to a fear almost unspeakable. The girl had never heard this man's name before, and yet, quite by instinct, she coupled it with something disgraceful and underhanded. What was this new terror? She walked quietly into the dining-room and threw her wraps upon a chair by the side of the fire. As she laid her fan upon the mantelpiece an object in a small box fell to the floor. Beatrice picked it up carefully.
"I had almost forgotten," she murmured.
In a spirit of pure curiosity she raised the lid and the diamond moth flashed into view. Certainly it had been most careless of Uzali to leave the jewel on the supper-table after he had promised to get it repaired. Beatrice had taken it almost mechanically from the waiter who had brought it to her, and almost without thought carried it home. She took it casually from the box and ranged the two parts close together on the table so that the light might fall upon it. Really, it was a most lovely gem, one that any girl might be proud of, though Beatrice shrank from it as if it had been a thing of evil. In her mind it was associated with a series of dark tragedies, purple crimes and deeds of violence with which somehow her uncle was not unconnected. She laid her finger upon the jewel almost with loathing. She was still contemplating its sinister beauty when Flower entered the room and closed the door carefully behind him.
His mood had changed for the moment. He was by way of making himself agreeable.
"I hope you won't think I was rude to you just now," he said, "but I am greatly worried by business. Everything seems to have gone wrong lately, and if things don't mend before long I shall find myself very awkwardly situated. Like most successful men, I have enemies, and there is a conspiracy amongst them to drag me to the ground."
Beatrice murmured something sympathetic. Flower was telling her nothing new. She would have offered her assistance and advice had she thought it of the slightest use. She hardly heard what Flower was saying. She did not notice that he had broken off abruptly in his speech and that his gaze was concentrated upon the diamond moth.