She was fearful lest Gwent should have broken faith with her after all, and have written of her and her vain passion, to the man who already knew of it only too well.

She waited patiently for the "god of her idolatry" to look up.

At last he did so.

But he seemed to have forgotten her presence.

His brows were knitted in a frown, and he spoke aloud, as to himself-- "A syndicate! Old humbug! He knows perfectly well that the thing could not be run by a syndicate! It must be a State's own single possession--a State's special secret.