WHITEWASH
would deny it; she would deny it. Mrs. Denison would substantiate her story of dinner with her. But the husband—Philippa's conceit lifted its humbled head—he would have to be won over. Morton would never believe it. But heavens! how near she had been to betraying herself when the mine was sprung. She congratulated herself on her fainting fit, the first well-managed move of her disastrous campaign.
She glanced at the little silver clock on the table by her bedside, sat up and rubbed her face, stiff from the night's visions and vigil.
"Come what would," she thought, "she must fulfil her duty to Valdeck. She had his secret in her keeping. More than that, concealed under the bed lay a despatch-box that contained the trust moneys of the 'Polish Educational Society.'" A glow of returning self-respect passed over her, as she thought of the confidence he reposed in her. "Hers was the hand he had selected to help him in his hour of need." She recalled the momentous interview when he had begged her to keep his treasure for him until such time as she should
