He shook his head.  Mrs. Lecount smiled, and startled him into close attention by laying her hand on his arm.

“Put a Woman in her way, sir!” she whispered in her wiliest tones. “We don’t believe in that fascinating beauty of hers—­whatever you may do. Our lips don’t burn to kiss those smooth cheeks. Our arms don’t long to be round that supple waist. We see through her smiles and her graces, and her stays and her padding—­she can’t fascinate us! Put a woman in her way, Mr. Noel!  Not a woman in my helpless situation, who is only a servant, but a woman with the authority and the jealousy of a Wife.  Make it a condition, in your letter to the admiral, that if Mr. George is a bachelor at the time of your death, he shall marry within a certain time afterward, or he shall not have the legacy.  Suppose he remains single in spite of your condition, who is to have the money then?  Put a woman in your wife’s way, sir, once more—­and leave the fortune, in that case, to the married sister of your cousin George.”

She paused.  Noel Vanstone again attempted to express his opinion, and again Mrs. Lecount’s hand extinguished him in silence.

“If you approve, Mr. Noel,” she said, “I will take your approval for granted.  If you object, I will meet your objection before it is out of your mouth.  You may say:  Suppose this condition is sufficient to answer the purpose, why hide it in a private letter to the admiral?  Why not openly write it down, with my cousin’s name, in the will?  Only for one reason, sir.  Only because the secret way is the sure way, with such a woman as your wife.  The more secret you can keep your intentions, the more time you force her to waste in finding them out for herself.  That time which she loses is time gained from her treachery by the admiral—­time gained by Mr. George (if he is still a bachelor) for his undisturbed choice of a lady—­time gained, for her own security, by the object of his choice, who might otherwise be the first object of your wife’s suspicion and your wife’s hostility.  Remember the bottle we have discovered upstairs; and keep this desperate woman ignorant, and therefore harmless, as long as you can.  There is my advice, Mr. Noel, in the fewest and plainest words.  What do you say, sir?  Am I almost as clever in my way as your friend Mr. Bygrave?  Can I, too, conspire a little, when the object of my conspiracy is to assist your wishes and to protect your friends?”

Permitted the use of his tongue at last, Noel Vanstone’s admiration of Mrs. Lecount expressed itself in terms precisely similar to those which he had used on a former occasion, in paying his compliments to Captain Wragge.  “What a head you have got!” were the grateful words which he had once spoken to Mrs. Lecount’s bitterest enemy.  “What a head you have got!” were the grateful words which he now spoke again to Mrs. Lecount herself.  So do extremes meet; and such is sometimes the all-embracing capacity of the approval of a fool!