Flockart recollected the puzzling decision of Lady Heyburn, and remained silent.
"Our chief peril is still the one which has faced us all along," went on the man in the grey hat—"the peril that the girl may tell about that awkward affair at Chantilly."
"She dare not," Flockart assured him quickly.
Krail shook his head dubiously. "She's leading a lonely life. Her heart is broken, and she believes herself, as every other young girl does, to be without a future. Therefore, she's brooding over it. One never knows in such cases when a girl may fling all prudence to the winds," he said. "If she did, then nothing could save us."
"That's just what her ladyship said the other day," answered Flockart, tossing away his cigarette. "But you don't know that I hold her irrevocably. She dare not say a single word. If she dare, why did she not tell the truth about the safe?"
"Probably because it was all too sudden. She now finds life in that dismal little village intolerable. She's a girl of spirit, you know, and has always been used to luxury and freedom. To live with an old woman in a country cottage away from all her friends must be maddening. No, my dear James, in this you've acted most injudiciously. You were devoid of your usual foresight. Depend upon it, a very serious danger threatens. She will speak."
"I tell you she dare not. Rest your mind assured."
"She will."
"She shall not!"
"How, pray, can you close her mouth?" asked the foreigner.