“By what right do you incessantly demand money from me?” she asked.

“You promised, in those happier days, to be my friend always; and as a friend you have lent me money often.  As a friend, I ask you for it again.”

“And as a friend,” she retorted, “I refuse.”

“Then I shall be obliged to adopt the very unpleasant alternative of asking it from Lord Lisle.”

“Lord Lisle would refuse it.”

“He would give it to me as the means of purchasing my silence,” he said.  “You forget, Lady Amelie, what I have to show Lord Lisle, if he does refuse?”

“You mean my letters?” she said, indignantly.  “You are coward enough to threaten me with showing my husband the letters I was so mistaken as to write to you?”

“I should be deeply grieved, indeed,” he said, “but I have no other alternative.”

“And I mistook you for a gentleman,” she said, with calm scorn.

“You were very kind to me, Lady Amelie,” he said, with a polite sneer.

“I do not believe you have those letters,” she said.

“I have, indeed.  I have locked them up with the only two family heirlooms I possess—­a watch and a ring—­in an ivory casket, and I go nowhere without it.”

“You must do your worst!” said Lady Amelie.

“Nay,” he said, “I do not wish to do that.  My worst would be to bring the honored name of Lady Amelie Lisle into the divorce court, and that I should not like to do.  Do not decide hastily.  I cannot remain in England very long.  Take a week to decide in and let me know when I am to have the money.”

She turned from him with the scornful gesture of an outraged queen.

“We shall see,” she muttered between her white teeth.  “We shall see.”

She spoke no other word to him, but went back to her seat.  Count Jules bowed and quitted the room.

“You do not like that man, Lady Lisle?” said Basil, as he looked at her fair, flushed face.  Before she had time to answer, they were joined by some ladies of his acquaintance, and were not able to exchange another word on the subject.  As he was leaving, Lady Lisle looked out of the carriage.

“Mr. Carruthers!” she said.  He was by her side in a moment.  She was pale and agitated, not quite herself.

“You are my sworn knight,” she said, laying her hand on his.

“Until death!” he replied.

“You promised to help me at any risk, in any difficulty, and now I am going to ask your aid.”

“It is yours.  My whole life is yours,” he cried.  She smiled, sadly.

“There are some things more valuable than life.  Perhaps what I ask from you will cost you dear.”

“I do not care in the least what it costs,” he said.

“You are coming to dine with us; we do not dine this evening until eight.  Come soon after six.  I have a story to tell you.”

“I will not fail,” he replied.  “Do not be anxious, Lady Lisle, you look distressed.  Trust in me; far as human aid can go, mine is yours.”