"The Germans must have found out," intervened Lady Rachel, claiming the conversation again, "for no submarines had been in those waters for weeks, and they had been swept for mines the day before. I know this for a fact."
John looked at her keenly. That afternoon he had had a long conversation with Dacent Smith in regard to Lady Rachel Marvin. The fact that she had, two days ago, mentioned the Malta during her irresponsible chatter at dinner, had aroused a suspicion in John's mind that possibly the disaster which had happened to the new cruiser had been directly due to her foolish vanity—to her ineradicable desire to obtain social distinction by revealing to her friends her superior knowledge of what went on behind the scenes. This idea, as he sat in her presence now, listening to her talk, grew in strength, and at the first opportunity that occurred, he drew Mrs. Beecher Monmouth aside. He knew that he was venturing upon very thin ice in putting questions to her.
"Well, you bad boy," whispered Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "why have you been trying to flirt with Lady Rachel?"
John had seated himself on a low Turkish stool at her side.
"How could I see Lady Rachel when you are in the room?" he answered, gallantly.
"If you only meant it," responded Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, "I'd give you two pieces of sugar in your next cup of tea!"
"Lady Rachel cannot hold a candle to you," affirmed John.
"You mustn't be hard on her," returned Mrs. Beecher Monmouth. In the afternoon light the "Ogre's" wife looked scarcely twenty-five, a remarkably beautiful and imperious woman. Even John was obliged to confess that no fault existed in her passionate and somewhat sensuous beauty. For her part, Mrs. Beecher Monmouth was so used to admiration that she accepted John's flattery as a matter of course. Bernard Treves, she told herself, was one of the strings to her bow, and quite the nicest-looking boy of them all. "You mustn't be hard on poor Lady Rachel," she said; "she is such a dear, delightful chatterbox."
"Lady Rachel seems to know a good deal about the Malta."'
Mrs. Beecher Monmouth turned her eyes and fixed her gaze swiftly upon him; then she remarked, quietly: