Whether he had really allowed himself to be dragged into the horrors of even a slight connection with the slave-trade she could not tell; but she knew the world well enough to recognise the fact that Durnovo had only to make the accusation for it to be believed by the million sensation-mongers who are always on the alert for some new horror.
She knew that should Durnovo breathe a word of this in the right quarter--that is to say, into the eager journalistic ear--there would hardly be a civilised country in the world where Maurice Gordon of Loango could dwell under his own name.

She felt that they were all living on a slumbering volcano.

It was one of those rare cases where human life seems no longer sacred; and this refined, educated, gentle English lady found herself face to face with the fact that Victor Durnovo's life would be cheap at the price of her own.
At this moment Providence, with the wisdom of which we sometimes catch a glimpse, laid another trouble upon her shoulders.

While she was half distracted with the thought of her brother's danger, the news was put into her hand by the grinning Nala that Jack Meredith--the man she openly in her own heart loved--was in an even greater strait.
Here, at all events, was a peril that could be met, however heavy might be the odds.

Her own danger, the horror of Maurice's crime, the hatred for Victor Durnovo, were all swallowed up in the sudden call to help Jack Meredith.