Lady Corsoon fished in a green and gold bag which was slung on her arm and produced an elegant sheet of writing paper. "Read that," she said quietly.
Vernon started, and suppressed a cry. At the foot of the writing he saw a purple spider impressed clearly--the well-known sign manual of the scoundrel who had murdered Mr. Dimsdale. Glancing his eyes over the pages, he read that The Spider had learned about the pawning of certain family jewels and, moreover, had managed, by forged tickets, to get the same into his possession. He was willing to sell them back for two thousand pounds, to be paid in gold on a certain date and at a certain place, to be arranged when he received Lady Corsoon's reply. The reply was to be put in the agony column of the _Daily Telegraph_, when further arrangements would be made for the payment of the sum and the handing over of the jewels. Failing consent, The Spider intended to apply to Sir Julius and to reveal Lady Corsoon's gambling propensities. The whole of this precious epistle, written very elegantly, ended with the ideograph of the purple spider.
"What do you think of it?" asked Lady Corsoon when Vernon finished reading.
"What can I think of it, but that the man is a blackguard. You want me to deal with this?"
"Yes. I can't pay the two thousand pounds, as I have not got it. My husband keeps me very short. You see that I am candid; but then I trust you, as I doubt Mr. Maunders."
"Why do you doubt him?" asked Vernon suddenly. "Because he followed me one day to a pawnshop and learned my secret. Not in so many words, but by unmistakable hints he gave me to understand that my open house to him and my encouraging of his love for Lucy was the price of his silence. Things have gone from bad to worse, and I feel that I am under his thumb, until the jewels are got back again and all proof of my madness is destroyed. I am keeping a brave face, Mr. Vernon, but I am truly in despair. Sir Julius is a hard man, and the revelation of what I have done means disgrace. My husband will not spare me."
"No. He would remove Lucy from my care and cast me off with a small income to live on. He can't get a divorce, but he will insist upon a separation, as I feel certain. You alone can save me, and, if you can, I agree to your marriage with my daughter. Oh," she cried, struck by a strange look in Vernon's eyes, "don't think I am selling Lucy to you. But she loves you, and now that I know you will some day have a title, the money doesn't matter, as Sir Julius may be persuaded into accepting you as his son-in-law. At all events, if you will be my friend I shall be yours. Is it a bargain?"