Madame Midas, as may be easily guessed, did not pass a very pleasant night after the encounter with Villiers. Her head was very painful with the blow he had given her, and added to this she was certain she had killed him.

Though she hated the man who had ruined her life, and who had tried to rob her, still she did not care about becoming his murderess, and the thought was madness to her. Not that she was afraid of punishment, for she had only acted in self-defence, and Villiers, not she, was the aggressor.

Meanwhile she waited to hear if the body had been found, for ill news travels fast; and as everyone knew Villiers was her husband, she was satisfied that when the corpse was found she would be the first to be told about it.

But the day wore on, and no news came, so she asked Archie to go into Ballarar and see if the discovery had been made.

‘’Deed, mem,’ said Archie, in a consoling tone, ‘I’m thinkin’ there’s na word at all. Maybe ye only stapped his pranks for a wee bit, and he’s a’ richt.’

Madame shook her head.

‘I gave him such a terrible blow,’ she said, mournfully, ‘and he fell like a stone over the embankment.’

‘He didna leave go the nugget, onyhow, ye ken,’ said Archie, dryly; ‘so he couldna hae been verra far gone, but I’ll gang intil the toun and see what I can hear.’

There was no need for this, however, for just as McIntosh got to the door, Vandeloup, cool and complacent, sauntered in, but stopped short at the sight of Mrs Villiers sitting in the arm-chair looking so ill.

‘My dear Madame,’ he cried in dismay, going over to her, ‘what is the matter with you?’

‘Matter enow,’ growled McIntosh, with his hand on the door handle; ‘that deil o’ a’ husband o’ her’s has robbed her o’ the nugget.’

‘Yes, and I killed him,’ said Madame between her clenched teeth.

‘The deuce you did,’ said Vandeloup, in surprise, taking a seat, ‘then he was the liveliest dead man I ever saw.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Madame, leaning forward, with both hands gripping the arms of her chair; ‘is — is he alive?’

‘Of course he is,’ began Vandeloup; ‘I—’ but here he was stopped by a cry from Selina, for her mistress had fallen back in her chair in a dead faint.

Hastily waving for the men to go away, she applied remedies, and Madame soon revived. Vandeloup had gone outside with McIntosh, and was asking him about the robbery, and then told him in return about Villiers’ movements on that night. Selina called them in again, as Madame wanted to hear all about her husband, and Vandeloup was just entering when he turned to McIntosh.

‘Oh, by the way,’ he said, in a vexed tone, ‘Pierre will not be at work today.’

‘What for no?’ asked McIntosh, sharply.

‘He’s drunk,’ replied Vandeloup, curtly, ‘and he’s likely to keep the game up for a week.’

‘We’ll see about that,’ said Mr McIntosh, wrathfully; ‘I tauld yon gowk o’ a Twexby to give the mon food and drink, but I didna tell him to mack the deil fu’.’

‘It wasn’t the landlord’s fault,’ said Vandeloup; ‘I gave Pierre money — if I had known what he wanted it for I wouldn’t have done it — but it’s too late now.’

McIntosh was about to answer sharply as to the folly of giving the man money, when Madame’s voice was heard calling them impatiently, and they both had to go in at once.

Mrs Villiers was ghastly pale, but there was a look of determination about her which showed that she was anxious to hear all. Pointing to a seat near herself she said to Vandeloup —

‘Tell me everything that happened from the time I left you last night.’

‘My faith,’ replied Vandeloup, carelessly taking the seat, ‘there isn’t much to tell — I said goodbye to Monsieur Marchurst and Mademoiselle Kitty and went down to Ballarar.’

‘How was it you did not pass me on the way?’ asked Madame, quickly fixing her piercing eyes on him. ‘I drove slowly.’

He bore her scrutiny without blenching or even changing colour.

‘Easily enough,’ he said, calmly, ‘I went the other direction instead of the usual way, as it was the shortest route to the place I was stopping at.’

‘The “Wattle Tree”, ye ken, Madame,’ interposed McIntosh.

‘I had something to eat there,’ pursued Vandeloup, ‘and then went to the theatre. Your husband came in towards the end of the performance and sat next to me.’

‘Was he all right?’ asked Mrs Villiers, eagerly.

Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.

‘I didn’t pay much attention to him,’ he said, coolly; ‘he seemed to enjoy the play, and afterwards, when we went to supper with the actors, he certainly ate very heartily for a dead man. I don’t think you need trouble yourself, Madame; your husband is quite well.’

‘What time did you leave him?’ she asked, after a pause.

‘About twenty minutes to twelve, I think,’ replied Vandeloup, ‘at least, I reached the “Wattle Tree” at about twelve o’clock, and I think it did take twenty minutes to walk there. Monsieur Villiers stopped behind with the theatre people to enjoy himself.’

Enjoying himself, and she, thinking him dead, was crying over his miserable end; it was infamous! Was this man a monster who could thus commit a crime one moment and go to an amusement the next? It seemed like it, and Mrs Villiers felt intense disgust towards her husband as she sat with tightly clenched hands and dry eyes listening to Vandeloup’s recital.

‘Weel,’ said Mr McIntosh at length, rubbing his scanty hair, ‘the deil looks after his ain, as we read in Screepture, and this child of Belial is flourishing like a green bay tree by mony waters; but we ma’ cut it doon an’ lay an axe at the root thereof.’

‘And how do you propose to chop him down?’ asked Vandeloup, flippantly.

‘Pit him intil the Tolbooth for rinnin’ awa’ wi’ the nugget,’ retorted Mr McIntosh, vindictively.

‘A very sensible suggestion,’ said Gaston, approvingly, smoothing his moustache. ‘What do you say, Madame?’

She shook her head.

‘Let him keep his ill-gotten gains,’ she said, resignedly. ‘Now that he has obtained what he wanted, perhaps he’ll leave me alone; I will do nothing.’

‘Dae naethin’!’ echoed Archie, in great wrath. ‘Will ye let that freend o’ Belzibub rin awa’ wid a three hun’red ounces of gold an’ dae naethin’? Na, na, ye mauna dae it, I tell ye. Oh, aye, ye may sit there, mem, and glower awa’ like a boggle, but ye aren’a gangin’ to make yoursel’ a martyr for yon. Keep the nugget? I’ll see him damned first.’

This was the first time that Archie had ever dared to cross Mrs Villiers’ wishes, and she s............