"
"How did you find me out?" she asked, angrily, when her visitor--the
same Mr. Hobson we saw at Constantinople--was introduced.
"Ah! How do I find everything and everybody out? That's my affair--my
business, I may say."
"And what do you want?" went on Mrs. Wilders, in the same key.
"First of all, to condole with you on the loss of so many near
relatives. I missed you at Constantinople after Lord Lydstone's sad
and dreadful death."
Mrs. Wilders shuddered in spite of herself.
"You suffer remorse?" he said, mockingly.
She made a gesture of protest.
"Sorrow, I should say. Yet you benefited greatly."
"On the contrary, not at all. Another life still intervenes."
"Another! and you knew nothing of it! Impossible!"
"It is too true. I am as far as ever from the accomplishment of my
hopes."
"Who is this unknown interloper?"
"An English officer, at present serving in the Crimea. His name is
McKay: Stanislas McKay."
"The name is familiar; the Christian name is suggestive. Do you know
whether he is of Polish origin?"
"Yes, I have heard so. His father was once in the Russian army."
"It is the same, then. There can be no doubt of it. And you would like
to see him out of the way? I might help you, perhaps."
"How? I have my own agents at work."
"He is in the Crimea, you say?"
"Yes, or will be within a few weeks.
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