as lady jenny had expected, mr. van zwieten proved himself to be a wise man by presenting himself in her drawing-room at the appointed hour. he was in evening dress, calm and composed as usual, and greeted her with a low bow. she could not help admiring his self-possession. his reputation, his liberty even, was at stake, and yet he never turned a hair. and with these feelings uppermost, she received him more kindly, perhaps, than she would otherwise have done. the dutchman, taking his cue from her, that the conversation, despite its probable sensational character, was not to be conducted on melodramatic lines, reciprocated her politeness. any one seeing the pair might have imagined that they were discussing nothing of more importance than "shakespeare and the musical glasses," rather than a subject which, to one of them, at least, meant life or death.

the hostess, in a black silk dinner dress, with a few well-chosen jewels, looked unusually pretty in the light of the lamps, and van zwieten was an admirer of pretty women, and knew well how to make himself agreeable to them. had the subject-matter of their conversation been only less serious, he would have enjoyed himself. as it was, he did not find the hour he spent with her irksome. for a few moments the two antagonists discussed general topics, and then lady jenny came suddenly to the point. the man watched her warily. pretty she might be, but that was no reason why he should allow her to get the better of him. it was a duel of words, and the combatants were well matched.

"well, mr. van zwieten," began the widow, "i suppose you were somewhat astonished at my invitation."

"i cannot deny that i was, my dear lady. it is, perhaps, a trifle disconcerting to find one's rooms robbed, and then to receive an invitation from the robber!"

"oh, come, that is rather harsh, is it not? it was what i should call simple justice."

"indeed!" replied the other, dryly. "it would interest me to learn how you make that out."

"oh, easily. i can give you two reasons. in the first place, you threatened--did you not?--to accuse a man of a crime which you knew he had not committed. in the second, you are a spy, to put it plainly, and both wilfred burton and i felt it was our duty to secure proofs of your guilt. we are not all fools in this country!"

"that is a charge one would hardly bring against you," returned van zwieten, with emphasis, "nor against that young man. had i suspected him of so much cleverness, i should have taken more elaborate precautions."

"ah! you should never undervalue your enemies! well, i suppose you know that you are in my power?"

"and in wilfred burton's also!"

"no. i can manage him. he has left the decision of this matter in my hands. i am sure you ought to be pleased at that!"

"i am. because i see you mean to let me off."

"that depends!" she said, and shot a keen glance at him. "i asked you to come here because it was necessary that i should see you, sir--but i despise you none the less for that. you are a spy!--the meanest of all created creatures."

van zwieten held up his hand. he was quite unmoved. "my dear lady, let us come to business. believe me, preaching of that kind has very little effect on me. i might defend myself by saying that i have every right to use craft on behalf of the transvaal fox against the mighty english lion, but i will content myself with holding my tongue. i would remind you that i have very little time to spare. i intend to leave this country to-morrow morning."

"how do you know that i shall allow you to go?"

"you would hardly have invited me to this interview else," van zwieten said cunningly. "you have something you want from me. well, i will give it in exchange for my safety--and that includes, of course, your silence."

"it is clever of you to put it that way," responded the widow, coolly. "it so happens that you are right. i intend to make a bargain with you."

"always provided that i agree."

"of course," said she, airily; "but in this case i really think you will agree."

"i am not so sure of that." van zwieten narrowed his eyes and blinked wickedly. "you forget that i also know something."

"for that reason i asked you here. let me advise you not to pit yourself against me, my good man, or you may get the worst of it. a word from me and you would be kicking your heels in jail this very night."

"probably." van zwieten had too much to gain to notice her threat. "but you will never say that word."

"you can't be quite sure of that yet. well, let us get to business. i am not anxious to spend any more time in your company than is necessary."

"i assure you the feeling is mutual. may i ask how you found my rooms in westminster?"

"i think you know that very well after the visitor you received last night. i was told about them and you by mr. wilfred burton. he knew long ago that you were a spy, and he has been watching you for many months."

"he is not so very clever then. all these months--and yet he has got no further than this!"

"how much further do you want him to go? he has the box with all your papers--your treasonable papers--your orders from dr. leyds. really, mr. van zwieten, you should have taken a little more care of that box! the top of a press was hardly a safe place to hide it. but perhaps you had been reading poe's story of the 'purloined letter.'"

"never mind what i read," he said, evidently annoyed at her flippancy. "let us confine ourselves to business. the idea of the disguised policeman was yours, i suppose?"

"yes, sir, it was. i felt sure that the landlady would not let us enter your room to make the search unless she was thoroughly frightened, so i suggested that he should get himself up as a member of the force. our little stratagem succeeded to perfection. mrs. hicks--that is her name, i believe--was terrified and let us in at once. then we found your box, and i sent wilfred away with it while i stayed and wrote my note to you. oh, what a time we had over your papers! you really are very clever, mr. van zwieten. what a lot the foreign secretary would give to see what we saw and, as it happens, he is a personal friend of mine. i might sell it, you know," she went on coolly. "i am poor enough now, and they would give me a good price."

"not such a price as would recompense you for what i could say about your husband," retorted the dutchman.

she laughed gaily. "oh, that? my good man, i know all about that! do you think i should have taken the trouble to talk to you if i had not known that my husband had been doing all your dirty work?"

"yes, he did my work," van zwieten said viciously. "he was my creature--paid by me with transvaal gold. you call me a spy, lady jane malet. your own husband was one--and not only a spy, but a traitor!"

"i know it," she said, and her face was very pale, "and for that reason i am glad he is dead, terrible though his end was."

"i dare say you helped him out of the world!" sneered van zwieten.

"that is false, and you know it. i had no idea of what my husband was until i found his papers after his death. had i known that when he was yet alive, i might have killed him!" she clenched her hand. "yes, i might have shot him, the mean, cowardly hound! he spoke against the boers, and yet he took their money!"

"oh, you must not blame him for that. that was my idea."

"it is worthy of you. oh!"--she started up and paced the room in a fury--"to think that i should have been married to such a creature! to think that i should have lived on gold paid for the betrayal of my country! the cur! the judas! thank god he is dead." and then, turning abruptly on the dutchman, "how did you gain him over to your side?" she asked. "gilbert was a man once--a man and a gentleman. how did you contrive to make him a--a--thing?"

"easily enough," he said placidly. he could not understand why she made all this fuss. "two years ago i met him at monte carlo. i watched him gamble and lose. i heard he was in the war office, or had some connection with it, so i made his acquaintance and induced him to play still higher. we became intimate enough to discuss money matters--his, of course--and he told me that he was very hard up. he blamed you."

"i dare say," returned lady jenny, coldly. "go on."

"well, i put the matter to him delicately. i asked him to find out certain details connected with your military organization, and i told him he would be well paid for the information. i am bound to say he kicked at first, but i went on tempting him with bigger sums; and he was so desperately hard up that he closed with me in the end. he soon did all i wanted, and, once in my power, i trained him to be most useful, but i kept on paying him well--oh, yes, i paid him very well."

he made this villainous confession in so cool a tone that lady jenny could have struck him. it was horrible to think that she had been the wife of so degraded a creature as van zwieten now described her husband to have been, and, "thank god he is dead!" she cried again. "it would have been worse for both of us if i had known it while he was alive. it might have been i, then, who would have fired the shot. but after all, i suppose it was better that he should fall by your hand!"

the dutchman started from his seat. "i am a spy, lady jenny," he cried, "but i am not a murderer. i leave that sort of thing to you!"

"to me? do you accuse me of the murder of my husband?"

"i do. captain burton, while staying at your house at chippingholt, left his revolvers behind. you found them; you took one and stole out after your husband and shot him. i found the weapon. do you take me for a fool? where were you when you pretended to go to the rectory?--out in the orchards tracking your husband! you killed him because he was in love with mrs. scarse. deny it if you can!"

"i do deny it. it was all over between him and mrs. scarse before he married me. he cared so little for the poor woman that he did not go to her when she was dying. that madman, her husband, came down to tell gilbert of her death. they met and had a struggle. i thought it was he who had killed him; and indeed, if he had, i should not have blamed him. as it was, you were the man--you, who wanted to get rid of your tool!"

van zwieten threw himself back in his chair with a laugh. "you talk nonsense," he said roughly. "why should i want to get rid of a man who was useful to me? no one was more sorry than i when poor malet died. not from any sentimental point of view--oh, dear no!--but because he had become quite a necessary person to me. i found the revolver in the grass, but it was not i who had used it. if i had," he added cynically, "i should have no hesitation in telling you."

"you did murder him!" insisted lady jenny, fiercely. "i know where you found the revolver--not, as you say, on the grass--no! it was in the library on the night of the murder. gilbert had been shooting at a mark in the afternoon; and at night--at nine o'clock--i heard voices in the library. it was you who were with him; you, who came to take away treasonable papers from my unhappy husband. you got what you wanted, and you got the weapon, and he went back with you to mr. scarse's cottage. you wanted to get rid of him without danger to yourself; you tried to lay the guilt on harold burton to rid yourself of a rival! you shot gilbert in the orchards, and you threw away the revolver to implicate harold and walked back to the cottage; you--you murderer!--you cain!"

she stopped, half choked by her emotions. van zwieten seized the opportunity to deny once again the truth of her accusation.

"i tell you i did not kill malet!"

"then who did?"

"i don't know. i thought it was captain burton; upon my soul i did!"

"have you a soul?" lady jenny asked with scorn. "i should doubt it. however, i stick to my opinion--i believe that you killed my husband. oh, you need not look alarmed, i am not going to give you up. i have done all i wanted--i have married harold to brenda by telling him i could keep you from accusing him of the murder!"

"and can you?" sneered van zwieten. he was fighting every inch.

"i am sure i can. i have your box, remember. for my husband's sake i spare you now. i don't want an honorable name to be smirched through him. i don't want to be pointed at as the widow of a spy and a traitor, otherwise i would denounce you as the spy and the murderer i truly believe you to be. this is my bargain, mr. van zwieten. you leave england at once, cease to persecute captain burton and his wife and i will hold my tongue."

"and if i refuse?" he asked sullenly.

"if you refuse i will have you arrested as you leave this house. you think i can't do that, but i can. i have made all my preparations. i have left nothing to chance. one does not leave things to chance in dealing with a man like you, mr. van zwieten," she sneered. "wilfred burton is outside with a couple of policemen. i have only to whistle and they will come up."

but van zwieten was not so easily bluffed. "on what grounds, may i ask?" he said. "if you wanted to keep this matter quiet for the sake of your husband, you would not have told the police."

"i have told them nothing about your spying business," she said calmly. "you will be arrested on a charge of being concerned in the murder of my husband, and i can assure you that if you are so arrested i will press the charge. on the other hand, if you agree to my terms, i will let you go free. i can easily make things right with the police by telling them that i have been mistaken. oh, all this is not regular, i know; but i have some little political influence, and i am using it for my own benefit--and for yours, if it comes to that."

he looked at her savagely. had he obeyed his inclinations he would have wrung her neck. it was gall and wormwood to him to be beaten so thoroughly by a woman. but being in england, and not in a country like the transvaal, where such a trifling matter as murder would be winked at, he had to suppress his homicidal desires. quickly reviewing the situation, he could see nothing for it but to yield to the superior power of the enemy. twist and wriggle as he might, there was no chance of escaping from the trap she had prepared for him. the game was up and there remained only the transvaal.

"well!" lady jenny asked imperiously, "what have you to say? will you give me your promise to leave brenda and her husband unmolested and to leave england at once, or will you allow yourself to be arrested and have all the world know what manner of life yours has been?"

"if you had me exposed, you also would suffer."

"my husband's name would be smirched. i know that, but i am prepared to run that risk. if i had the misfortune to be the wife of a scoundrel, that was not my fault. but i am getting tired of all this. i give you five minutes to make up your mind."

van zwieten assumed a cheerful demeanor. he would take the sting of this defeat by accepting it with a good grace. "there is no need for me to consider the matter, dear lady," he said, "i am willing to accept your terms."

"very good. then you leave england----"

"to-morrow morning."

"and you will make no further accusations against captain burton?"

"no. it would appear that he is innocent."

"and you will not annoy his wife?"

"since she is his wife, i will promise that also."

"in that case i need detain you no longer, mr. van zwieten."

"one moment. my papers; what about them? am i not to have them?"

the audacity of this demand took away the little woman's breath. "no! certainly not," she replied sharply. "i should lose my hold over you if i gave them up. besides, you have given quite enough information to your friend dr. leyds. you shall not give any more if i can help it."

"then what security have i that you will let me go free?"

"you have my word. and, after all, there are no guarantees on either side. what security have i for your silence save the holding of these papers? i know very well that as soon as you think you are safe you will do what injury you can to captain burton. but i can thwart you there too, mr. van zwieten. your wish is to go to the british camp as a war correspondent. you would betray all our plans to the enemy. well, sir, i forbid you to stay with my countrymen. if i hear--as i assuredly will hear that you are in our camp, i will at once disclose the contents of the box, and instructions shall be sent to the front for your arrest. i can checkmate you on every point."

"what about captain burton's life? you can't protect that. if you drive me to join the boers, i can easily have him shot."

seeing there was no more to be said, he rose to go. at the door he paused. "you have forced me to consent to what you wished," he said, "as i can do nothing against the power you have unlawfully gained over me by stealing my papers. but i give you fair warning that i love brenda madly, and that i intend to make her my wife in spite of captain burton. once in the transvaal, i shall join hands openly with my adopted country. then let burton look to himself, for i will do my best to make his wife a widow."

"the future is in the hands of god," lady jenny said solemnly. "you can go, mr. van zwieten."

he bowed ironically and went without another word. he was glad to have escaped so easily; for, after all, he could do as he liked when he was beyond the reach of pursuit. once he was in the transvaal, lady jenny might show the papers as much as she wished. had she been wise, he thought, she would have kept him as a hostage. but she had let her chance slip, and he was free to plot and scheme. needless to say, he intended to keep none of the promises he had made.

then he went out into the night, slipped past three men, whom he recognized as wilfred and the constables, and so took his departure like a whipped hound.