Lady Heyburn was, even though of humble origin, a woman of unusual intelligence.

In various quarters she had been snubbed and ridiculed, but she gradually managed in every case to get the better of her enemies.

Many a man and many a woman had had bitter cause to repent their enmity towards her.
They marvelled how their secrets became known to her.
They did not know the power behind her--the sinister power of that ingenious and unscrupulous man, James Flockart--the man who made it his business to know other people's secrets.

Though for years he had been seized with a desire to get at the bottom of Sir Henry's private affairs, he had never succeeded.

The old Baronet was essentially a recluse; he kept himself so much to himself, and was so careful that no eyes save those of his daughter should see the mysterious documents which came to him so regularly by registered post, that all Flockart's efforts and those of Lady Heyburn had been futile.
"I had another good look at the safe this morning," the man went on presently.