“My dear Sir Henry, it will be far better for us both if I leave.  To remain will only be to lend further colour to these scandalous rumours.  I have decided to leave your house.”

“You believe that Macdonald is dishonest, eh?” inquired the afflicted man quickly.

“Yes, I’m certain of it.  Remember, Sir Henry, that when one is dealing with a man who is blind, it is sometimes a great temptation to be dishonest.”

“I know, I know,” sighed the other deeply.  They were at a bend in the drive where the big trees met overhead, forming a leafy tunnel.  The ascent was a trifle steep, and the Baronet had paused for a few seconds, leaning heavily upon the arm of his friend.

“Oh, pardon me!” exclaimed Flockart suddenly, releasing his arm.  “Your watch-chain is hanging down.  Let me put it right for you.”  And for a few seconds he fumbled at the chain, at the same time holding something in the palm of his left hand.  “There, that’s right,” he said a few minutes later.  “You caught it somewhere, I expect.”

“On one of the knobs of my writing-table perhaps,” said the other.  “Thanks.  I sometimes inadvertently pull it out of my pocket.”

A faint smile of triumph passed across the dark, handsome face of the man, who again took his arm, as at the same time he replaced something in his own jacket-pocket.  He had in that instant secured what he wanted.

“You were saying with much truth, my dear Flockart, that in dealing with a man who cannot see there is occasionally a temptation towards dishonesty.  Well, this very day I intend to have a long chat with my wife, but before I do so will you promise me one thing?”

“And what is that?” asked the man, not without some apprehension.

“That you will remain here, disregard the gossip that you may have heard, and continue to assist me in my helplessness in making full and searching inquiry into Macdonald’s alleged defalcations.”

The man reflected for a few seconds, with knit brows.  His quick wits were instantly at work, for he saw with the utmost satisfaction that he had been entirely successful in disarming all suspicion; therefore his next move must be the defeat of that man’s devoted defender, Gabrielle, the one person who stood between his own penniless self and fortune.

“I really cannot at this moment make any promise, Sir Henry,” he remarked at last.  “I have decided to go.”

“But defer your decision for the present.  There is surely no immediate hurry for your departure!  First let me consult my wife,” urged the Baronet, putting out his hand and groping for that of Flockart, which he pressed warmly as proof of his continued esteem.  “Let me talk to Winifred.  She shall decide whether you go or whether you shall stay.”

CHAPTER XVI

SHOWS A GIRL’S BONDAGE