"Do quiet yourself, Mr. Wyndham. There may be nothing in what I told you."
Esther felt really frightened.
"Perhaps the gentleman comes to see your sister, Miss Wyndham. He certainly comes, but—but——"
"Esther, the whole thing must be put a stop to—the faintest shadow of risk must not be run. My wife thinks herself a widow, but she must retain the feelings of a wife. It must be impossible for her, while I live, to think of another man."
"Can you not bring yourself back to her memory, sir? Is there no way?"
"That is a good thought. Don't speak for a little. Let me think."
Wyndham continued to pace the floor. Esther softly built up the fire with trembling fingers. In this mood she was afraid of Wyndham. That fire in his eyes was new to her. She was cowed—she shivered. With her mental vision she already saw her grey-headed father in the prisoner's dock.
"Esther," said Wyndham, coming up to her suddenly. "I have thought of a plan. It won't implicate anyone, and if a chord in Valentine's heart still beats true to me this must touch it. At what hour does Carr generally call to see my wife?"
"He is a busy man; he comes mostly at night, about nine o'clock. He has a cup of tea, and goes away at ten. When Miss Wyndham is there he sometimes stays on till nearly eleven."
"He comes every night?"