Just at the moment when success had come to them after all their ingenuity and all their endeavours—just at a moment when they could demand and obtain what terms they liked from Sir Henry to preserve the secret of the financial combine—came this catastrophe.
"Felix was a fool to have left his work only half-done," he remarked aloud, as though speaking to himself.
"What work?" asked the hollow-eyed woman eagerly. But he did not satisfy her. To explain would only increase her alarm and render her even more desperate than she was.
"Did I not tell you often that, from her, we had all to fear?" cried the woman frantically. "But you would not listen. And now I am—I'm face to face with the inevitable. Disaster is before me. No power can avert it. The girl will have a bitter and terrible revenge."
"No," he cried quickly, with fierce determination. "No, I'll save you, Winnie. The girl shall not speak. I'll go up to Glencardine to-night and face it out. You will come with me."
"I!" gasped the shrinking woman. "Ah, no. I—I couldn't. I dare not face him. You know too well I dare not!"
CHAPTER XXXV
DISCLOSES A SECRET
The grey mists were still hanging upon the hills of Glencardine, although it was already midday, for it had rained all night, and everywhere was damp and chilly.
Gabrielle, in her short tweed skirt, golf-cape, and motor-cap, had strolled, with Walter Murie at her side, from the house along the winding path to the old castle. From the contented expression upon her pale, refined countenance, it was plain that happiness, to a great extent, had been restored to her.