Aunt Philippa proceeded to do so in her most judicial manner.  “That letter I found on the terrace yesterday morning and, believing it to be one of my own that had blown out of my window, I picked it up and later placed it in my letter-case.  In the evening I took it out with the intention of answering my correspondent, but upon perusing it, I discovered it to be the communication which you hold in your hand.  As you perceive, it was written from Sandacre Court about a week ago, and I now realize that it is not the first letter which the writer has sent to this house.  You may remember a discussion arising one morning on the subject of a letter from Sandacre Court.  That letter, I am now convinced, was written by the same hand, and these facts point to the very unpleasant conclusion that the man who wrote them—­Guillaume Rodolphe—­has been levying blackmail.  He is apparently aware of a most unfortunate episode which occurred at Valpre in Chris’s early girlhood—­”

Mordaunt held up his hand abruptly; his face was set in iron lines.  “I have already heard of the episode to which you refer,” he said.

“Indeed!” said Aunt Philippa.  “And may I ask how long you have been aware of it?”

He hesitated momentarily.  “Is that material?”

“I think it is,” she rejoined.  “If Chris has brought herself even at the eleventh hour to be open with you, none will rejoice more sincerely than I. It has always been my principle that wives should have no secrets from their husbands.  But, knowing her as I do, I question very much if this can be the case.  I have remonstrated with her myself upon the subject, but she refused so stubbornly to listen to me that I cannot but feel that the time has come for me to take my own measures.  I should not be doing my duty otherwise.  Painful as it is to me, I feel it incumbent upon me to tell you the truth.  Now, my dear Trevor, are you aware that there has to-day been a scene between your wife and your secretary which I can only describe as—­a love passage?  Has she confessed this to you?  Because, if not, you must no longer remain in ignorance of the true state of affairs.  Chris has deceived me throughout in the most flagrant manner.  Had I known—­as I now know—­that the man who caused the Valpre scandal and your secretary, Bertrand de Montville, a criminal exile living upon your charity, were one and the same person, I would never have permitted you to marry my niece and expose her afresh to a temptation which she had already shown herself unable to resist.”

Her last words were somewhat hurried, for Mordaunt had risen to his feet, and there was that in his eyes that warned her that if she paused for a single instant they would never be uttered at all.  And Aunt Philippa never liked to leave a task unfinished.  That which she undertook she invariably carried through undeviatingly, whatever the cost, and notwithstanding any adverse circumstances which might arise during its accomplishment.