THE AVALANCHE

 _A MYSTERY STORY_

 BY GERTRUDE ATHERTON

 1919

TO CHARLES HANSON TOWNE

CHAPTER I

I

Price Ruyler knew that many secrets had been inhumed by the earthquakeand fire of San Francisco and wondered if his wife's had been one ofthem. After all, she had been born in this city of odd and whisperedpasts, and there were moments when his silent mother-in-law suggested apast of her own. 

That there was a secret of some sort he had been progressively convincedfor quite six months. Moreover, he felt equally sure that this impalpablegray cloud had not drifted even transiently between himself and his wifeduring the first year and a half of their marriage. They had beenuncommonly happy; they were happy yet . .. The difference lay not in thequality of Hélène's devotion, enhanced always by an outspoken admirationfor himself and his achievements, but in subtle changes of temperamentand spirits. 

She had been a gay and irresponsible young creature when he married her, so much so that he had found it expedient to put her on an allowance andask her not to ran up staggering bills in the fashionable shops; whichshe visited daily, as much for the pleasure of the informal encounterwith other lively and irresponsible young luminaries of San Franciscosociety as for the excitement of buying what she did not want. 

He had broached the subject with some trepidation, for they had never hada quarrel; but she had shown no resentment whatever, merely an eagerdesire to please him. She even went directly down to the Palace Hotel andreproached her august parent for failing to warn her that a dollar wasnot capable of infinite expansion. 

But no wonder she had been extravagant, she told Ruyler plaintively. Ithad been like a fairy tale, this sudden release from the rigideconomies of her girlhood, when she had rarely had a franc in herpocket, and they had lived in a suite of the old family villa on oneof the hills of Rouen, Madame Delano paying her brother for theirlodging, and dressing herself and Hélène with the aid of a halfparalyzed seamstress with a fiery red nose. Ma foi! It was thenightmare of her youth, that nose and that croaking voice. But thewoman had fingers, and a taste! And her mother could have concocted asmart evening frock out of an old window curtain. 

But the petted little daughter was never asked to go out and buy a spoolof thread, much less was she consulted in the household economies. Allshe noticed was that her clothes were smarter than Cousin Marthe's, whohad a real dressmaker, and was subject to fits of jealous sulks. Nowonder that when money was poured into her lap out in this wonderfulCalifornia she had assumed that it was made only to spend. 

But she would learn! She would learn! She would ask her mother that veryday to initiate her into the fascinating secrets of personal economies, teach her how to portion out her quarterly allowance between herwardrobe, club dues, charities, even her private automobile. 

This last heroic suggestion was her own, and although her husbandprotested he finally agreed; it was well she should learn just what itcost to be a woman of fashion in San Francisco, and the allowance wasvery generous. His old steward, Mannings, ran the household, although ashe went through the form of laying the bills before his little mistresson the third of every month, she knew that the upkeep of the SanFrancisco house and the Burlingame villa ran into a small fortune a year. 

"It is not that I am threatened with financial disaster, " Ruyler had saidto her. "But San Francisco has not recovered yet, and it is impossible tosay just when she will recover. I want to be absolutely sure of myexpenditures. "

She had promised vehemently, and, as far as he knew, she had kept herpromise. He had received no more bills, and it was obvious that herhaughty chauffeur was paid on schedule time, until, seized with anothereconomical spasm, she sold her car and bought a small electric which shecould drive herself. 

Ruyler, little as he liked his mother-in-law, was intensely grateful toher for the dexterity with which she had adjusted Hélène's mind to thenew condition. She even taught her how to keep books in an elemental wayand balanced them herself on the first of every month. As Hélène Ruylerhad a mind as quick and supple as it was cultivated in _les graces_, shesoon ceased to feel the chafing of her new harness, although she didsquander the sum she had reserved for three months mere pocket money upona hat; which was sent to the house by her wily milliner on the first dayof the second quarter. She confessed this with tears, and her husband, who thought her feminine passion for hats adorable, dried her tears andtook her to the opening night of a new play. But he did not furnish thepathetic little gold mesh bag, and as he made her promise not to borrow, she did not treat her friends to tea or ices at any of the fashionablerendezvous for a month. Then her native French thrift came to her aid andshe sold a superfluous gold purse, a wedding present, to an enviousfriend at a handsome bargain. 

That was ancient history now. It was twenty months since Price hadreceived a bill, and secret inquiries during the past two had satisfiedhim that his wife's name was written in the books of no shop in SanFrancisco that she would condescend to visit. Therefore, this maddeningbut intangible barrier had nothing to do with a change of habit that hadnot caused an hour of tears and sulks. Hélène had a quick temper but agay and sweet disposition, normally high spirits, little apparentselfishness, and a naïve adoration of masculine superiority and strength;altogether, with her high bred beauty and her dignity in public, anenchanting creature and an ideal wife for a busy man of inherited socialposition and no small degree of pride. 

But all this lovely equipment was blurred, almost obscured at times, bythe shadow that he was beginning to liken to the San Francisco fogs thatdrifted through the Golden Gate and settled down into the deep hollows ofthe Marin hills; moving gently but restlessly even there, like ghostlyfloating tides. He could see them from his library window, where he oftenfinished his afternoon's work with his secretaries. 

But the fog drifted back to the Pacific, and the shadow that encompassedhis wife did not, or rarely. It chilled their ardors, even their serenedomesticity. She was often as gay and impulsive as ever, but with abruptreserves, an implication not only of a new maturity of spirit, but ofwatchfulness, even fear. She had once gone so far as to give voicepassionately to the dogma that no two mortals had the right to be ashappy as they were; then laughed apologetically and "guessed" that theold Puritan spirit of her father's people was coming to life in herGallic little soul; then, with another change of mood, added defiantlythat it was time America were rid of its baneful inheritance, and thatshe would be happy to-day if the skies fell to-morrow. She had flungherself into her husband's arms, and even while he embraced her the eyesof his spirit searched for the girl wife who had fled and left this moresubtly fascinating but incomprehensible creature in her place. 

II

The morning was Sunday and he sat in the large window of his library thatoverlooked the Bay of San Francisco. The house, which stood on one of thehighest hills, he had bought and remodeled for his bride. The books thatlined these walls had belonged to his Ruyler grandfather, bought in a daywhen business men had time to read and it was the fashion for a gentlemanto cultivate the intellectual tracts of his brain. The portraits thathung above, against the dark paneling, were the work of his mother'sfather, one of the celebrated portrait painters of his time, and werereplicas of the eminent and mighty he had painted. Maharajas, kings, emperors, famous diplomats, men of letters, artists of his own smallclass, statesmen and several of the famous beauties of their brief day;these had been the favorite grandson's inheritance from Masewell Price, and they made an impressive frieze, unique in the splendid homes of thecity of Ruyler's adoption. 

He had brought them from New York when he had decided to live inCalifornia, and hung them in his bachelor quarters. He had soon made uphis mind that he must remain in San Francisco for at least ten years ifhe would maintain the business he had rescued from the disaster of 1906at the level where he had, by the severest application of his life, placed it by the end of 1908. Meanwhile he had grown to like SanFrancisco better than he would have believed possible when he arrived inthe wrecked city, still smoking, and haunted with the subtle odors offires that had consumed more than products of the vegetable kingdom. 

The vast ruin with its tottering arches and broken columns, its lonelywalls looking as if bitten by prehistoric monsters that must haunt thisancient coast, the soft pastel colors the great fire had given as solecompensation for all it had taken, the grotesque twisted masses of steeland the aged gray hills that had looked down on so many fires, hadappealed powerfully to his imagination, and made him feel, when wanderingalone at night, as if his brain cells were haunted by old memories ofAntioch when Nature had annihilated in an instant what man had lavishedupon her for centuries. Nowhere, not even in what was left of ancientRome, had he ever received such an impression of the age of the world andof the nothingness of man as among the ruins of this ridiculously moderncity of San Francisco. It fascinated him, but he told himself then thathe should leave it without a pang. He was a New Yorker of the seventhgeneration of his house, and the rest of the United States of America wasmerely incidental. 

The business, a branch of the great New York firm founded in 1840 by anancestor grown weary of watching the broad acres of Ruyler Manorautomatically transmute themselves into the yearly rent-roll, andreverting to the energy and merchant instincts of his Dutch ancestors, had been conducted skillfully for the thirty years preceding thedisaster by Price's uncle, Dryden Ruyler. But the earthquake and fire inwhich so many uninsured millions had vanished, had also wrecked men pastthe rebounding age, and Dryden Ruyler was one of them. He might haveborne the destruction of the old business building down on Front Street, or even the temporary stagnation of trade, but when the Pacific UnionClub disappeared in the raging furnace, and, like many of his oldcronies who had no home either in the country or out in the WesternAddition, he was driven over to Oakland for lodgings, this ghastlyclimax of horrors--he escaped in a milk wagon after sleeping for twonights without shelter on the bare hills behind San Francisco, while thefire roared its defiance to the futile detonations of dynamite, and hissciatica was as fiery as the atmosphere--had broken the old man'sspirit, and he had announced his determination to return toRuyler-on-Hudson and die as a gentleman should. 

There was no question of Price's father, Morgan Ruyler, leaving NewYork, even if he had contemplated the sacrifice for a moment; that hissecond son and general manager of the several branches of the greatbusiness of Ruyler and Sons--as integral a part of the ancient historyof San Francisco as of the comparatively modern history of NewYork--should go, was so much a matter of course that Price had taken thefirst Overland train that left New York after the receipt of his uncle'sdespairing telegram. 

In spite of the fortune behind him and his own expert training, thestruggle to rebuild the old business to its former standard had beenunintermittent. The terrific shock to the city's energies was followedby a general depression, and the insane spending of a certain class ofSan Franciscans when their insurance money was paid, was like a brieflast crackling in a cold stove, and, moreover, was of no help to thewholesale houses. 

But Price Ruyler, like so many of his new associates in like case, hademerged triumphant; and with the unqualified approval and respect of thesubstantial citizens of San Francisco. 

It was this position he had won in a community where he had experiencedthe unique sensation of being a pioneer in at the rebirth of a greatcity, as well as the outdoor sports that kept him fit, that had endearedCalifornia to Ruyler, and in time caused him whimsically to visualize NewYork as a sternly accusing instead of a beckoning finger. Long before hefound time to play polo at Burlingame he had conceived a deep respect fora climate where a man might ride horseback, shoot, drive a racing car, ortramp, for at least eight months of the year with no menace of suddendownpour, and hardly a change in the weight of his clothes. 

To-day the rain was dashing against his windows and the wind howled aboutthe exposed angles of his house with that personal fury of assault withwhich storms brewed out in the vast wastes of the Pacific deride theenthusiastic baptism of a too confident explorer. All he could see of thebay was a mad race of white caps, and dark blurs which only memoryassured him were rocky storm-beaten islands; mountain tops, so geologicaltradition ran, whose roots were in an unquiet valley long since droppedfrom mortal gaze. 

The waves were leaping high against the old forts at the entrance to theGolden Gate, and occasionally he saw a small craft drift perilously nearto the rocks. But he loved the wild weather of San Francisco, for he wasby nature an imaginative man and he liked to think that he would havefollowed the career of letters had not the traditions of the greatcommercial house of Ruyler and Sons, forced him to carry on the burden. 

The men of his family had never been idlers since the recrudescence ofancestral energy in the person of Morgan Ruyler I; it was no part oftheir profound sense of aristocracy to retire on inherited or investedwealth; they believed that your fine American of the old stock should diein harness; and if the harness had been fashioned and elaborated byancestors whose portraits hung in the Chamber of Commerce, all the morereason to keep it spic and up to date instead of letting it lapse intothose historic vaults where so many once honored names lay rotting. Theywere a hard, tight-fisted lot, the Ruylers, and Price in one secluded butcherished wing of his mind was unlike them only because his mother wasthe daughter of Masefield Price and would have been an artist herself ifher scandalized husband would have consented. Morgan Ruyler IV hadoverlooked his father-in-law's divagation from the orthodox standards ofhis own family because he had been a spectacular financial success;bringing home ropes of enormous pearls from India in addition to thefantastic sums paid him by enraptured native princes. But while MorganRuyler believed that rich men should work and make their sons work, ifonly because an idle class was both out of place in a republic andconducive to unrest in the masses, it was quite otherwise with women. They were for men to shelter, and it was their sole duty to be useful inthe home, and, wherever possible, ornamental in public. Nor had he theleast faith in female talent. 

Marian Ruyler had yielded the point and departed hopefully for a broadersphere when her second and favorite son was eight. Morgan Ruyler marriedagain as soon as convention would permit, this time carefully selecting awife of the soundest New York predispositions and with a personaladmiration of Queen Victoria; and he had watched young Price like anaffectionate but inexorable parent hawk until the young man followed hisbrother--a quintessential Ruyler--into the now historic firm. However, hesuffered little from anxiety. Price, too, was conservative, intenselyproud of the family traditions, an almost impassioned worker, andunselfish as men go. Two sons in every generation must enter the firm. Itwas not in the Ruyler blood to take long chances. 

III

Life out here in California had been too hurried for more than fleetingmoments of self-study, but on this idle Sunday morning Price Ruyler'sperturbed mind wandered to that inner self of his to which he once hadlonged to give a freer expression. It was odd that the conservativetraining, the rigid traditions of his family, conventional, old-fashioned, Puritanical, as became the best stock of New York, a stockthat in the Ruyler family had seemed to carry its own antidote for thepoisons ever seeking entrance to the spiritual conduits of the rich, hadleft any place for that sentimental romantic tide in his nature which hadswept him into marriage with a girl outside of his own class; a girl ofwhose family he had known practically nothing until his outraged fatherhad cabled to a correspondent in Paris to make investigation of thePerrin family of Rouen, to which the girl's mother claimed to belong. 

The inquiries were satisfactory; they were quite respectable, bourgeois, silk merchants in a small way--although at least two stratabelow that haute bourgeoisie which now regarded itself as the realupper class of the République Française. A true Ruyler, however, wouldhave fled at the first danger signal, never have reached the pointwhere inquiries were in order. 

California was replete with charming, beautiful, and superlativelyhealthy girls; the climate produced them as it did its superabundance offruit, flowers, and vegetables. But they had left Price Ruyleruntroubled. He had been far more interested watching San Francisco risefrom its ruins, transformed almost overnight from a picturesque butramshackle city, a patchwork of different eras, into a staid metropolisof concrete and steel, defiant alike of earthquake and fire. He had likedthe new experience of being a pioneer, which so subtly expanded hisstarved ego that he had, by unconscious degrees, made up his mind toremain out here as the permanent head of the San Francisco House; and intime, no doubt, marry one of these fine, hardy, frank, out-of-door, wholly unsubtle California girls. Moreover, he had found in San Franciscoseveral New Yorkers as well as Englishmen of his own class--notably JohnGwynne, who had thrown over one of the greatest of English peerages tofollow his personal tastes in a legislative career--all of whom hadsettled down into that free and independent life from motives notdissimilar from his own. 

But he had ceased to be an untroubled spirit from the moment he metHélène Delano. He had gone down to Monterey for polo, and he hadforgotten the dinner to which he had brought a keen appetite, and staredat her as she entered the immense dining room with her mother. 

It was not her beauty, although that was considerable, that had summarilytransposed his gallant if cool admiration for all charming well bredwomen into a submerging recognition of woman in particular; it was herunlikeness to any of the girls he had been riding, dancing, playing golfand tennis with during the past year and a half (for two years after hisarrival he had seen nothing of society whatever). Later that evening hedefined this dissimilarity from the American girl as the result not onlyof her French blood but of her European training, her quiet secludedgirlhood in a provincial town of great beauty, where she had received aleisurely education rare in the United States, seen or read little of thegreat world (she had visited Paris only twice and briefly), her mindcharmingly developed by conscientious tutors. But at the moment hethought that the compelling power lay in some deep subtlety of eye, herlittle air of lofty aloofness, her classic small features in a smallface, and the top-heavy masses of blue black hair which she carried witha certain naïve pride as if it were her only vanity; in her generalunlikeness to the gray-eyed fair-haired American--a type to which himselfbelonged. Her only point in common with this fashionable set patronizingDel Monte for the hour, was the ineffable style with which she wore herperfect little white frock; an American inheritance, he assumed after heknew her; for, as he recalled provincial French women, style was nottheir strong point. 

When he met her eyes some twenty minutes later, he dismissed theimpression of subtlety, for their black depths were quick with an eagerwonder and curiosity. Later they grew wistful, and he guessed that sheknew none of these smart folk, down, like himself, for the tournament;people who were chattering from table to table like a large family. Thatsome of his girl acquaintances were interested in the young stranger heinferred from speculative and appraising eyes that were turned upon herfrom time to time. 

Price, with some irony, wondered at their curiosity. The San Franciscogirl, he had discovered, possessed an extra sense all her own. There wasno lofty indifference about her. She had the worth-while strangerdetected and tabulated and his or her social destiny settled before theEastern train had disgorged its contents at the Oakland mole. And eventhe immense florid mother of this lovely girl, with her own masses ofsnow white hair dressed in a manner becoming her age, and a severe gownof black Chantilly net, relieved by the merest trifle of jet, looked thereverse of the nondescript tourist. The girl wore white embroidered silkmuslin and a thin gold chain with a small ruby pendant. She was ratherabove the average height, although not as tall as her mother, and if shewere as thin as fashion commanded, her bones were so small that her neckand arms looked almost plump. Her expressive eyes were as black as herhair, and her only large feature. Her skin was of a quite remarkably pinkwhiteness, although there was a pink color in her lips and cheeks. Theolder men stared at her more persistently than the younger ones, wholiked their own sort and not girls who looked as if they might be "booky"and "spring things on a fellow. "

There was a ball in the evening and once more mother and daughter satapart, while the flower of San Francisco--an inclusive term for theselect circles of Menlo Park, Atherton, Burlingame, San Mateo, far SanRafael and Belvedere--romped as one great family. Newport, Ruylerreflected for the twentieth time, did it no better. To the strangerpeering through the magic bars they were now as insensible as befittedtheir code. These two people knew nobody and that was the end of it. 

IV

But Price noted that now the girl's eyes were merely wistful, and once ortwice he saw them fill with tears. As three of the dowagers merelysniffed when he sought possible information, he finally had recourse tothe manager of the hotel, D. V. Bimmer. They were a Madame andMademoiselle Delano from Rouen, and had been at the hotel for afortnight, not seeming to mind its comparative emptiness, but enjoyingthe sea bathing and the drives. The girl rode, and went out every morningwith a groom. 

"But didn't they bring any letters?" asked Ruyler. "They are ladies andone letter would have done the business. That poor girl is having thedeuce of a time. "

"D. V. , " who knew "everybody" in California, and all their secrets, shookhis head. "'Fraid not. The French maid told the floor valet that althoughthe father was American--from New England somewheres--and the girl bornin California, accidentally as it were, she had lived in France all herlife--she's just eighteen--never crossed the ocean before. Can you beatit? Until last month, and then they came from Hong Kong--taking a tripround the world in good old style. The madame, who scarcely opens hermonth, did condescend to tell me that she had admired California verymuch when she was here before, and intended to travel all over the state. Perhaps I met her in that far off long ago, for I was managing a hotel inSan Francisco about that time, and her face haunts me somehow--althoughwhen features get all swallowed up by fat like that you can't locatethem. The girl, too, reminds me of some one, but of course she was inarms when she left and as I ain't much on cathedrals I never went toRouen. Of course it's the old trick, bringing a pretty girl to afashionable watering place to marry her off, but these folks are notpoor. Not what we'd call rich, perhaps, but good and solid. I don't fallfor the old lady; she's a cool proposition or I miss my guess, but thegirl's all right. I've seen too many girls in this Mecca for adventurousfemales and never made a mistake yet. I wish some of our grand dameswould extend the glad hand. But I'm afraid they won't. Terribleexclusive, this bunch. "

Ruyler scowled and walked back to the ballroom. The exclusiveness of thisyoung society on the wrong side of the continent sometimes made himhomesick and sometimes made him sick. He saw little chance for this poorgirl to enjoy the rights of her radiant youth if her mother had not takenthe precaution to bring letters. France was full of Californians. Manylived there. Surely she must have met some one she could have made useof. It was tragic to watch a pathetic young thing staring at two or threehundred young men and maidens disporting themselves with the naturalhilarity of youth, and but few of them too ill-natured to welcome a youngand lovely stranger if properly introduced. 

He experienced a desperate impulse to go up to the mother and offerher the hospitality of the evening, ask her to regard him as her host. But Madame Delano had a frozen eye, and no doubt orthodox French ideason the subject of young girls. A moment later his eye fell on Mrs. Ford Thornton. 

"Fordy" was many times a millionaire, and his handsome intelligent wifelived the life of her class. But she was far less conservative than anywoman Price had met in San Francisco. Although she was no longer young hehad more than once detected symptoms of a wild and insurgent spirit, andan impatient contempt for the routine she was compelled to follow or gointo retirement. She was always leaving abruptly for Europe, and everyonce in a while she did something quite uncanonical; enjoying wickedlythe consternation she caused among the serenely regulated, and betrayingto the keen eyes of the New Yorker an ironic appreciation of the immensewealth which enabled her to do as she chose, answerable to no one. Herhusband was uxorious and she had no children. She had seemed to Pricemore restless than usual of late and showing unmistakable signs of abruptdeparture. (He was sure she dusted the soles of her boots as she lockedthe door of drawing-room A. ) Perhaps to-night she might be in aschismatic mood. 

She was standing apart, a tall, dark, almost fiercely haughty woman, butdressed with a certain arrogant simplicity, without jewels, her hair in acareless knot at the base of her head. There were times when she wasimpeccably groomed, others when she looked as if an infuriated maid hadleft her helpless. She was, as Ruyler well knew, a kind and generouswoman (in certain of her moods), with whom the dastardly cradle fates hadexperimented, hoping for high drama when the whip of life snapped oncetoo often. Perhaps she had found her revenge as well as her consolationin cheating them. 

It was evident to Price that she had been snubbing somebody, for a groupof matrons, flushed and drawn apart, were whispering resentfully. PriceRuyler stood in no awe of her. He could match her arrogance, and he likedand admired her more than any of his new friends. They quarreledfuriously but she had never snubbed him. 

He walked over to her, his cool gray eyes lit with the pleasure in seeingher that she had learned to expect. "Good evening, oh, Queen of thePacific, " he said lightly. "You are looking quite wonderful as usual. Areyou standing alone almost in the middle of the room to emphasizethe--difference?"

"I am in no mood for compliments, satiric or otherwise. " She looked himover with cool penetration. "I may not massage or have my old cuticleripped off. If I choose to look my age you must admit that it gives meone more claim to originality. "

"You should have let the world know long since just how original you are, instead of settling down into the leadership of San Francisco society--"

He enjoyed provoking her. Her dark narrow eyes opened and flashed as theymust have done in their unchastened youth. "Don't dare call me the leaderof this--this!"

"Granted. But the fact remains that your word alone is law. Therefore Iam about to ask you to forget that I am a bungling diplomat and do a kindact. For once you would be able to be both kind and original. "

"I did not know you went in for charities. I am sick of shelling out. "

"My only part in charities is shelling out. "

"Well, come to the point. What do you want?"

"I want you to go over to that lady--Madame Delano, her name is--sittingbeside that beautiful girl, and introduce yourself and then me. They arestrangers and I'd like to give them a good time. "

"How disinterested of you!" She looked the isolated couple over. "Thegirl is all right, but I don't like the mother. She is well dressed--oh, correct from tip to toe--but not quite the lady. "

Ruyler's cool insolent gaze swept the dado of amiable overfed ladies whofanned themselves against the wall. 

"None of that! You know that I do not tolerate the New York attitude. At least we know who ours are; they came into their own respectably, and with no uncertain touch. Of course it is stupid of them to get fat. Naturally it makes them look _bourgeoise_. But this is a lazy climate. As to that woman: there is something about her I do not like. She isaggressively not massaged, not made up. Only a woman of assuredposition can afford to be mid-Victorian. It is now quite the smartthing to make up. "

"No doubt her position is assured in her own provincial town. It will beeasy enough to drop her if she doesn't go down. You can't deny that thegirl is all right--and a sweet pathetic figure. "

"If the girl marries one of our boys--and no doubt that is what she wasbrought here for--we shall not be able to get rid of the mother. We'vetried that and failed. "

At that moment Ruyler's eyes met those of the girl. They flashed anirresistible appeal. He drew a short breath. How different she looked!She radiated a subtle promise of perfect companionship. Price Ruyler didwhat all men will do until the end of time. He made up his mind that hehad found his woman and without vocal assistance. 

Mrs. Thornton, who had been watching the unusual mobility of his face, met his eyes with a satirical smile in her own, her thin red curling lipsdrawn almost straight for a moment. She had played with the fancy, beforeanger banished it, that if she had been twenty years younger. .. . Men hadfallen madly in love with her in her own day. .. . She detected thesymptoms in this man at once. Her savage will compelled her to acceptaccumulating years without a concession. But she had forgotten nothing. 

Ruyler may have read her thoughts. 

"You know, " he said, with an attempt at lightness, although the coastwind tan, which was his only claim to coloring, had paled a little, "thatgirl reminds me so much of you that I have made up my mind to marry her. I don't care who she is. If you don't help me to meet her conventionallyI'll manage somehow, but I should hate to practice any subterfuges on thewoman I intend to make my wife. "

For a moment he had the sensation of being pinned to the wall by thatnarrow concentrated gaze. Then Mrs. Thornton swung on her heel. "I'll doit, " she said. 

She walked across the room with the supple grace her slender figure hadnever lost and sat down beside the older woman. In a moment theastonished dowagers who had "suffered from her fiendish temper allevening, " saw her talking with spontaneous graciousness to both thestrangers. Madame Delano was at first more distant and reserved than Mrs. Thornton had ever been, manifestly betraying all the suspicion andunsocial instincts of her class; but she thawed, and the two womenchatted, while once more the girl's eyes wandered to the dancers. 

When Mrs. Thornton had tormented Ruyler for quite fifteen minutes shebeckoned to him imperiously. A moment later he was whirling the girl downthe ball room and thrilling at her contact. 

V

The wooing had been as headlong as his falling in love. Hélène Delano hada deep sweet voice, which completed the conquest during the hour theyspent in the grounds under the shelter of a great palm, until hunted downby a horrified parent. 

Hélène talked frankly of her life. Her mother had been visiting relativesin a small New England town--Holbrook Centre, she believed it was called, but hard American names did not cling to her memory--she loved the softLatin and Indian names in California--and there she had met and marriedher father, James Delano. They were on their way to Japan when businessdetained him in San Francisco much longer than he had expected and shewas born. She believed that he had owned a ranch that he wanted to sell. He died on the voyage across the Pacific and her mother had returned tolive among her own people in Rouen--very plain bourgeois, but of arespectability, Oh, là! là!

"But it was a tiresome life for a young girl with American blood in her, monsieur. " Her mother's income from her husband's estate was not large, but they lived in a wing of the old house and were very comfortable. Fromher window there was a lovely view of the Seine winding off to Paris. "Oh, monsieur, how I used to long to go to Paris! America was too far. Inever even dreamed of it. But Paris! And only two little glimpses ofit--the last when we spent a fortnight there before sailing, to get mesome nice frocks. .. . "

She had studied hard--but hard! She knew four languages, she told Ruylerproudly. "I had no _dot_ then, you see. It was possible I might have toteach one day. A governess in England, Oh, là! là!"

But six months ago a good old uncle had died and left them some money. She would have a little _dot_ now, and they could travel. Maman said shewould not have a large enough _dot_ to make a fine marriage in France, but that the English and American men were more romantic. They went firstto the Orient, as there were many Englishmen of good family to be metthere. "But maman is difficult to please, " she added with her enchantingartlessness, "as difficult as I myself, monsieur. I wish to fall in lovelike the American girls. Maman says it is not necessary, but I am halfAmerican, so, why not? There was an English gentleman with a nice titlein Hong Kong and maman was quite pleased with him until she discoveredthat he gambled or did something equally horrid and she bought ourtickets for San Francisco right away. "

Yes, she was enjoying her travels, but she was a little lonesome; inRouen at least she had her cousins. For the first time in her life shewas talking to a young man alone; even on the steamer she was notpermitted to speak to any of the nice young men who looked as if theywould like her if only maman would relent. 

"In our ugly old rooms in Rouen maman cherished me like some rare littleflower in an old earthen pot, " she added quaintly. "Now the pot hastinsel and tissue paper round it, but until to-night I have felt as if Imight just as well be an old cabbage. "

But it had been heaven to dance with a young man who was not a cousin;and to sit out alone with him in the moonlight, Oh, _grace à Dieu_!

Traveling she had read modern novels for the first time. There were manyin the ship's library, oh, but dozens! and she knew now how American andEnglish girls enjoyed life. Her mother had been ill nearly all the wayover. She had given her word not to speak to any one, but maman had beenignorant of the library replete with the novelists of the day, andalthough she was not untruthful, _enfin_, she saw no reason to ask hertoo anxious parent for another prohibition and condemn herself to yawnat the sea. 

Ruyler proposed at the end of a week. She was the only really innocent, unspoiled, unselfconscious girl he had ever met, almost as old-fashionedas his great grandmother must have been. Not that he set forth hervirtues to bolster his determination to marry a girl of no family even inher own country; he was madly in love, and life without her wasunthinkable; but he tabulated the thousand points to her credit for thebenefit of his outraged father. 

He did not pretend to like Madame Delano. She was a hard, calculating, sordid old bourgeoisie, but when he refused the little _dot_ she wouldhave settled upon Hélène, he knew that he had won her friendship and thatshe would give him no trouble. She was not a mother-in-law to be ashamedof, for her manners were coldly correct, her education in youth hadevidently been adequate, and in her obese way she was imposing. She gavehim to understand that she had no more desire to live with her son-in-lawthan he with her, and established herself in a small suite in the PalaceHotel. After a "lifetime" in a provincial town, economizing mercilessly, she felt, she remarked in one of her rare expansive moments, that she hadearned the right to look on at life in a great hotel. 

The rainy season she spent in Southern California, moving from one largehotel crowded with Eastern visitors to another. This uncommonself-indulgence and her devotion to Hélène were the only weak spotsRuyler was able to discover in that cast-iron character. She seldomattended the brilliant entertainments of her daughter and refused theendowed car offered by her son-in-law. Hélène married to the best _parti_in San Francisco and quite happy, she seemed content to settle down intothe role of the onlooker at the kaleidoscope of life. She spent eighthours of the day and evening seated in an arm chair in the court of thePalace Hotel, and for air rode out to the end of the California Streetcar line, always on the front seat of the dummy. She was dubbed a "quaintold party" by her new acquaintances and left to her own devices. If shedidn't want them they could jolly well do without her. 

VI

Hélène's social success was immediate and permanent. Californians rarelydo things by halves. Society was no exception. She had "walked off" withthe most desirable man in town, but they were good gamblers. When theylost they paid. She had married into "their set. " They had accepted her. She was one of them. No secret order is more loyal to its initiates. 

During that first year and a half of ideal happiness Ruyler, in whatleisure he could command, found Hélène's rapidly expanding mind ascompanionable as he had hoped; and the girlish dignity she never lost, for all her naiveté and vivacity, gratified his pride and compelled, upontheir second brief visit to New York, even the unqualified approval ofhis family. 

She had inherited all the subtle adaptability of her father's race, nothing of the cold and rigid narrowness of her mother's class. Price hadfeared that her lively mind might reveal disconcerting shallows, butthese little voids were but the divine hiatuses of youth. He sometimeswondered just how strong her character was. There were times when sheshowed a pronounced inclination for the line of least resistance . .. Buther youth . .. Her too sheltered bringing up . .. Those drab crampedyears . .. No wonder. .. . 

He was glad on the whole that his was the part to mold. Nevertheless, hehad his inconsistencies. Unlike many men of strong will and drivingpurpose he liked strength of character and pronounced individuality inwomen; and he, too, had had fleeting visions of what life might have beenhad Flora Thornton entered life twenty years later. He had been quitesincere in telling her that the young stranger reminded him of the mostpowerful personality he had met in California, and he believed thatwithin a reasonable time Hélène would be as variously cultivated, aswidely, if less erratically developed. But was there any such insurgentforce in her depths? It was not within the possibilities that at any timein her life Flora Thornton had been pliable. 

A man had little time to study his wife in California these days. Or atany time? He sometimes wondered. Certainly happy marriages were rare anddivorces many. Fine weather nearly all the year round played the deucewith domesticity, and his business could not be neglected for the longvacation abroad to which they both had looked forward so ardently. 

Sometimes, even before this vague gray mist had risen between them, hehad had moments of wondering whether he knew his wife at all. How could aman know a woman who did not yet know herself? He sighed and wished hehad more time to explore the uncharted seas of a woman's soul. 

But the cause of the change in her was something far less picturesque, something concrete and sinister. He felt sure of that. .. . 

VII

Unless--but that was ridiculous! Impossible!

He sprang to his feet, incredulous, disgusted at the mere thought. 

But why not? She was very young, and older and wiser women were afflictedwith inconsistencies, little tenacious desires and vanities never quiteto be grasped by the elemental male. 

He went over to a bookcase containing heavy works of reference andpressed his index finger into the molding. It swung outward, revealingthe door of a safe. He manipulated the combination, took from a drawer ofthe interior a box, opened it and stared at a magnificent Burmah ruby. Itwas or had been a royal jewel, presented to Masewell Price by one of thegreat princes of India whose portrait he had painted. The pearls had allbeen captured long since by Price's sisters and by Morgan V. For hiswife; but this ruby his mother had given him as she lay dying. She hadbidden him leave it in his father's safe until he was out of college, andthen keep it as closely in his personal possession as possible. It wouldbe turned over to him with the rest of his private fortune. 

"Never let any woman wear it, " she had whispered. "It brings luck to menbut not to women. Nothing could have affected my luck one way or theother--I was born to have nothing I wanted, but you, dear little boy. Keep it for your luck and in a safe place, but near you. "

He had looked back upon this scene as he grew older as the mereexpression of a whim of dissolution, but it had made so deep animpression upon him at the time that insensibly the words sank into hisplastic mind creating a superstition that refused to yield to reason. Theruby was Hélène's birthstone and she was passionately fond of it. She hadbegged and coaxed to wear this jewel, and upon one occasion had stampedher little foot and sulked throughout the evening. He had given her aruby bar, had the clasp of her pearl necklace set with rabies, and lastChristmas had presented her with a small but fine "pigeon blood"encircled with diamonds. These had enraptured her for the moment, but shehad always circled back to the historic stone, over which her indulgenthusband was so unaccountably obstinate. 

Until lately. He recalled that for several months she had not mentionedit. Could she have been indulging in a prolonged attack of interiorsulks, which affected her spirits, dimmed her radiant personality? Heabominated the idea but admitted the possibility. She would not be thefirst person to be the victim of a secret but furious passion for jewels. He recalled a novel of Hichens; not the matter but the central idea. Authors of other races had used the same motive. Well, if his wife had anabnormal streak in her the sooner he found out the truth the better. 

He closed the door of the safe, swung the bookcase into place, slippedthe ruby with its curious gold chain that looked massive but hardlyweighed an ounce, into his pocket, rang for a servant and told him to askMrs. Ruyler to come down to the library as soon as she was dressed. 

CHAPTER II

I

Ruyler sighed as he heard his wife walk down the hall. There had been atime when she came running like a child at his summons, but in these daysshe walked with a leisurely dignity which to his possibly morbid earbetrayed a certain crab-like disposition in her little high heels to slipbackward along the polished floor. 

She came in smiling, however, and kissed him quickly and warmly. Herextraordinary hair hung down in two long braids, their blue blacknessundulating among the soft folds of her thin pink negligée. For the firsttime Ruyler realized that pink was Hélène's favorite color; she seldomwore anything else except white or black, and then always relieved withpink. And why not, with that deep pink blush in her white cheeks, and thevelvet blackness of her eyes? People still raved over Hélène Ruyler's"coloring, " and Price told himself once more as she stood before him, herlittle head dragged back by the weight of her plaits, her slender throatcrossed by a narrow line of black velvet, that he had married one of themost beautiful girls he had ever seen. 

He was seized with a sudden sharp pang of jealousy and caught her in hisarms roughly, his gray eyes almost as black as hers. 

"Tell me, " he exclaimed, and the new fear almost choked him, "does anyother man interest you--the least little bit?"

She stared at him and then burst into the most natural laugh he had heardfrom her for months. "That is simply too funny to talk about. "

"But I am able to give you so little of my time. Working or tired out atnight--letting you go out so much alone--but I haven't the heart toinsist that you yawn over a book, while I am shut up here, or too faggedto talk even to you. Life is becoming a tragedy for business men--ifthey've got it in them to care for anything else. "

"Well, don't add to the tragedy by cultivating jealousy. I've told youthat I am perfectly willing to give up Society and sit like Dora holdingyour pens--or filling your fountain pen--no, you dictate. What chance hasa woman in a business man's life?"

"None, alas, except to look beautiful and be happy. Are you that?--thelast I mean, of course!"

She nestled closer to him and laughed again. "More so than ever. To befrank you have completed my happiness by being jealous. I have wonderedsometimes if it were a compliment--your being so sure of me. "

"That's my idea of love. "

"Well, it's mine, too. But if you want me to stay home--"

"Oh, no! You are fond of society? Really, I mean? Why shouldn't yoube?--a young thing--"

"What else is there? Of course, I should enjoy it much more if you werealways with me. Shall we never have that year in Europe together?"

"God knows. Something is wrong with the world. It needsreorganizing--from the top down. It is inhuman, the way even rich menhave to work--to remain rich! But sit down. "

He led her over to a chair before the window. The storm was decreasing inviolence, the heavy curtain of rain was no longer tossed, but falling instraight intermittent lines, and the islands were coming to life. Eventhe high and heavy crest of Mount Tamalpais was dimly visible. 

"It is the last of the storms, I fancy. Spring is overdue, " said Price, who, however, was covertly watching his wife's face. Her color had fadeda little, her lids drooped over eyes that stared out at the stillturbulent waters. 

"I love these San Francisco storms, " she said abruptly. "I am so glad wehave these few wild months. But Mrs. Thornton has worried and so have we. Her fête at San Mateo comes off on the fourteenth, the firstentertainment she has given since her return, and it would be ghastly ifit rained. It should be a wonderful sight--those grounds--everybody infancy dress with little black velvet masks. Don't you think you can go?"

"The fourteenth? I'll try to make it. Who are you to be?"

"Beatrice d'Este--in a court gown of black tissue instead of velvet, withjust a touch of pink--oh, but a wonderful creation! I designed it myself. We are not bothering too much about historical accuracy. "

"How would you like this for the touch of pink!" He took the immense rubyfrom his pocket and tossed it into her lap. 

For a moment she stared at it with expanding eyes, then gave alittle shriek of rapture and flung herself into his arms, the childhe had married. 

"Is it true? But true? Shall I wear this wonderful thing? The women willdie of jealousy. I shall feel like an empress--but more, more, I shallwear this lovely thing--I, I, Hélène Ruyler, born Perrin, who never had afranc in her pocket in Rouen! Price! Have you changed your mind--but no!I cannot believe it. "

That was it then! He watched her mobile face sharply. It expressednothing but the excited rapture of a very young woman over a magnificenttoy. There was none of the morbid feverish passion he had dreadfullyanticipated. His spirits felt lighter, although he sighed that a bauble, even if it were one of the finest of its kind in the world, should haveprojected its sinister shadow between them. It had a wicked history. ButHélène saw no shadows. She held it up to the light, peered into it as itlay half concealed in the cup of her slender white hands, fondled itagainst her cheek, hung the chain about her neck. 

"How I have dreamed of it, " she murmured. "How did you come to changeyour mind?"

"I thought it a pity such a fine jewel should live forever in a safe; andit will become you above all women. Nature must have had you in her eyewhen she designed the ruby. I had a sudden vision . .. And made up my mindthat you should wear it the first time I was able to take you to a party. I must keep the letter of my promise. "

"And I can only wear it when you are with me?"

"I am afraid so. "

"I'm you, if there is anything in the marriage ceremony. " Then she kissedhim impulsively. "But I won't be a little pig. And I can tell everybodybetween now and the Thornton fête that I am going to wear it, and I canthink and dream of my triumph meanwhile. But why didn't you let me knowyou were down? It is Sunday, our only day. I overslept shockingly. Ididn't get home till two. "

"Two? Do you dance until two every night?"

"What else? They lead such a purposeless life out here. We sometimes haveclasses--but they don't last long. I have almost forgotten that I oncehad a serious mind. But what would you? It is either society or suffrage. I won't be as serious as that yet. I mean to be young--but young! forfive more years. Then I shall become a 'leader, ' or vote for thePresident, or ride on a float in a suffrage parade dressed as the Goddessof Liberty, with my hair down. "

He laughed, more and more relieved. "Yes, please remain young until youare twenty-five. By that time I hope the world will have adjusted itselfand I shall have the leisure to companion you. Meanwhile, be a child. Itis very refreshing to me. Come. I must lock this thing up. I have aninterview here with Spaulding in about ten minutes. "

She gave it up reluctantly, kissing it much as she had kissed him duringtheir engagement; warm, lingering, but almost impersonal kisses. The rubyseemed miraculously to have restored her beaten youth. 

She sat on the edge of a chair as he opened the safe and placed the jewelin its box and drawer. 

"There is one other thing I wanted to ask, " he said as he rose. "Is yourallowance sufficient? It has sometimes occurred to me that you wantedmore--for some feminine extravagance. "

The light went out of her face. He wondered whimsically if he had lockedit in with the ruby, and once more he was conscious that somethingintangible floated between them. But she looked at him squarely with hershadowed eyes. 

"Oh, one could spend any amount, of course, but I really havequite enough. "

"You shall have double your present allowance when these cursed timesimprove. And I have always intended to settle a couple of hundredthousand on you--a quarter of a million--as soon as I could realizewithout loss on certain investments. But one day I want you to be quiteindependent. "

Her eyes had opened very wide. "A quarter of a million? And it would beall my own? I could do anything with it I liked?"

"Well--I think I should put it in trust. I haven't much faith in theresistance of your sex to tempting investments promising a high rate ofinterest. "

"I have heard you say that when rich men die the amount of worthlessstock found in their safe deposit boxes passes belief. "

"Quite true. But that is hardly an argument in favor of trusting an evenmore inexperienced sex with large sums of money. "

She laughed, but less naturally than when he had been seized with anunwonted spasm of jealousy. "You will always get the best of me in anargument, " she said with her exquisite politeness. "Really, I think Ilove being wholly dependent upon you. Here comes your detective. Whata bore. But at least we lunch together if we do have company. Andthank you, thank you a thousand times for promising I shall wear theruby at last. "

She slipped her hand into his for a second, then left the room, smilingover her shoulder, as the locally celebrated "Jake" Spaulding entered. Both Ruyler and his general manager had thought it best to have theircashier watched. There were rumors of gambling and other road housediversions, and they proposed to save their man to the firm, if possible;if not, to discharge him before he followed the usual course and involvedRuyler and Sons in the loss of thousands they could ill afford to spare. 

CHAPTER III

I

On the following day Ruyler, who had looked upon the whirlwind of passionthat had swept him into a romantic and unworldly marriage, as likely toremain the one brief drama of his prosaic business man's life, begandimly to apprehend that he was hovering on the edge of a sinister andcomplicated drama whose end he could as little foresee as he could escapefrom the hand of Fate that was pushing him inexorably forward. When Fatesuddenly begins to take a dramatic interest in a man whose course has runlike a yacht before a strong breeze, she precipitates him toward one halfcrisis after another in order to confuse his mental powers and render himwholly a puppet for the final act. These little Earth histrionics arearranged no doubt for the weary gods, who hardly brook a mere mortalrising triumphantly above the malignant moods of the master playwright. 

He lunched at the Pacific Union Club and caught the down-town CaliforniaStreet cable car as it passed, finding his favorite seat on the left sideof the "dummy" unoccupied. He was thinking of Hélène, a littledisappointed, but on the whole vastly relieved, congratulating himselfthat, no longer haunted, he could give his mind wholly to the importantquestion of the merger he contemplated with a rival house that had limpedalong since the disaster, but had at last manifested its willingness toaccept the offer of Ruyler and Sons. 

It was a moment before he realized that his mother-in-law occupied thefront seat across the narrow space, and even before he recognized thatlarge bulk, he had registered something rigid and tense in its muscles;strained in its attitude. When he raised his eyes to the face he foundhimself looking at the right cheek instead of the left, and it waspervaded by a sickly green tint quite unlike Madame Delano's floridcolor. She was listening to a man who sat just behind her on the longseat that ran the length of the dummy. Although the day was clear, therewas still a sharp wind and no one else sat outside. 

Ruyler knew the man by sight. Before the fire he had owned some of themost disreputable houses in the district the car would pass on its way tothe terminus. The buildings were uninsured, and he had made his livingsince as a detective. Even his political breed had gone out of power inthe new San Francisco, but he was well equipped for a certain type ofdetective work. He had a remarkable memory for faces and could pierce anydisguise, he was as persistent as a ferret, and his knowledge of theunderworld of San Francisco was illimitable. But his chief assets werethat he looked so little like a detective, and that, so secretive werehis methods, his calling was practically unknown. He had set up a cheaprestaurant with a gambling room behind at which the police winked, although pretending to raid him now and again. He was a large soft manwith pendulous cheeks streaked with red, a predatory nose, and a blackoverhanging mustache. His name was 'Gene Bisbee, and there was atradition that in his younger days he had been handsome, and irresistibleto the women who had made his fortune. 

Ruyler was absently wondering what his haughty mother-in-law could haveto say to such a man when to his amazement Bisbee planted his elbow inthe pillow of flesh just below Madame Delano's neck, and said easily:

"Oh, come off, Marie. I'd know you if you were twenty years older andfifty pounds heavier--and that's going some. Bimmer and two or threeothers are not so sure--won't bet on it--for twenty years, and, let mesee--you weighed about a hundred and thirty-five--perfect figger--in theold days. Must weigh two seventy-five now. That makes one forty-fivepounds extra. Well, that and time, and white hair, would change prettynear any woman, particularly one with small features. You look a real oldlady, and you can't be mor'n forty-five. How did you manage the whitehair? Bleach?"

Ruyler felt his heart turn over. The frozen blood pounded in his brainand distended his own muscles, his mouth unclosed to let his breathescape. Then he became aware that the woman had recovered herself andmoved forward, displacing the familiar elbow. She turned imperiously tothe motorman. 

"Stop at the corner, " she said. "And if this man attempts to follow meplease send back a policeman. He is intoxicated. "

The car stopped at the corner of the street opposite the site of theold Saint Mary's Cathedral, a street where once had been that row ofsmall and evil cottages where French women, painted, scantily dressedin a travesty of the evening gown, called to the passer-by through theslats of old-fashioned green shutters. That had been before Ruyler'sday, but he knew the history of the neighborhood, and this man'sinterest in it. He was not surprised to hear Bisbee laugh aloud asMadame Delano, who stepped off the car with astonishing agility, waddled down the now respectable street. But she held her headmajestically and did not look back. 

Ruyler squared his back lest the man, glancing over, recognize him. Thatwould be more than he could bear. As the car reached Front Street hesprang from the dummy and walked rapidly north to Ruyler and Sons. Helocked himself in his private office, dismissing his stenographer withthe excuse that he had important business to think out and must not bedisturbed. 

II

But business was forgotten. He was as nearly in a state of panic as waspossible for a man of his inheritance and ordered life. He belonged tothat class of New Yorker that looked with cold disgust upon the women ofcommerce. So far as he knew he had never exchanged a word with one ofthem, and had often listened with impatience to the reminiscences of hisSan Francisco friends, now married and at least intermittently decent, ofthe famous ladies who once had reigned in the gay night life of SanFrancisco. 

And his mother-in-law! The mother of his wife!

Her name was Marie. In that chaos of flesh an interested eye mightdiscover the ruins of beauty. Her hair, he knew, had been black. Herecalled the terror expressed in every line of that mountainousfigure--which may well have been perfect twenty years ago. The greenpallor of her cheek! And he had long felt, rather than knew, that shepossessed magnificent powers of bluff. Her dignified exit had been nomore convincing to him than to Bisbee. 

He went back over the past and recalled all he knew of the woman whosedaughter he had married. She had visited the United States abouttwenty-one years ago, met and married Delano, and remained in SanFrancisco two or three months on their way to Japan. Delano had died onthe voyage across the Pacific, been buried at sea, and his widow hadreturned to her family in Rouen and settled down in her brother'shousehold. 

This was practically all he knew, for it was all that Hélène knew, andMadame Delano never wasted words. It had not occurred to him to questionher. Their status in Rouen was established, and if not distinguished itwas indubitably respectable and not remotely suggestive of mystery. 

Price, convinced that Hélène's father must have been a gentleman, recalled that he had asked her one day to tell him something of theDelanos, but his wife had replied vaguely that she believed hermother had been too sad to talk about him for a long while, and thenprobably had got out of the habit. She knew nothing more than shealready had told him. 

It came back to him, however, that several times his wife's casualreferences to the past, and particularly regarding her parents, had notdove-tailed, but that he had dismissed the impression; attributing it tosome lapse in his own attention. He had a bad habit of listening andthinking out a knotty business problem at the same time. And there is acurious inhibition in loyal minds which forbids them to put two and twotogether until suspicion is inescapably aroused. 

He had a very well ordered mind, furnished with innumerable little pigeonholes, which flew open at the proper vibration from his admirable memory. He concentrated this memory upon a little bureau of purely personalreceptacles and before long certain careless phrases of his wife stood ina neat row. 

She had mentioned upon one occasion that she thought she must have beenabout five when she arrived in Rouen, and remembered her first impressionof the Cathedral as well as the boats on the Seine at night. And CousinPierre had taken her up the river one Sunday to the church on the heightwhich had been built for a statue of the Virgin that had been excavatedthere, and bade her kneel and pray at this station for what she wishedmost. She had prayed for a large wax doll that said papa and mama, andbehold, it had arrived the next day. 

Madame Delano had told him unequivocally that she had gone directly toRouen after her husband's death . .. But again, although Hélèneremembered arriving in Rouen with her mother, she must have been leftfor a time elsewhere, for Hélène had another memory--of a convent, whereshe had tarried for what seemed a very long time to her childish mind. Could she have been sent to a convent from the house in Rouen when shewas so little that her memories of that first sojourn were confused? Andwhy? The family had apparently been fond of "la petite Americaine, " andeven if her devoted mother had been obliged to leave her for severalyears it is doubtful if they would have sent so young a child to aconvent. Rack his memory as he would he could recall no allusion to sucha journey, to any separation between mother and child after they wereestablished in Rouen. 

But he did remember one of Madame Delano's few references to the past, which might suggest that she had left the child somewhere while she wenthome to make peace with her family to get her bearings. Her brother hadnot approved of her marrying an American. "But, " she had addedgraciously, "you see I had no such prejudice. Neither now nor then. Jameswas the best of husbands. "

"James!" "Jim. "

He had heard the name Jim as he boarded the dummy, uttered in extremelyfamiliar accents; by Bisbee, of course. Yes, and something else. "We allfelt bad when he croaked. "

His feverishly alert memory darted to another pigeon hole and exhumedanother treasure. Some ten or twelve months ago he had been obliged to goto a northern county on business that involved buying up smallerconcerns, and would keep him away for a fortnight or more. He had takenHélène, and as they were motoring through one of the old towns she hadleaned forward with a little gasp exclaiming:

"How exactly like! If I didn't know that I had never been in Californiabefore except merely to be born here I could vow that is where I livedwith the dear nuns. "

He had asked idly: "Where was your convent?" and she had shaken her head. "Maman says I never was in a convent, that I dreamed it. " She had liftedto Ruyler a puzzled face. "I remember she punished me once, when I wasabout seven and persisted in talking about the convent--I suppose I hadforgotten it for a time in the new life, and something brought it back tome. But it is the most vivid memory of my childhood. Do you think I couldhave been one of those uncanny children that live in a dream world? Ihope not. I like to think I am quite normal and full to the brim ofcommon sense. " He had laughed and told her not to worry. He had lived ina dream world himself when he was little. 

The conviction grew upon him as he sat there that Hélène had spent thefirst five years of her life at the Ursuline Convent in St. Peter. Whathad her mother--young and beautiful--been doing during those years, theyears of a mother's most anxious devotion and pleasurable interest? Hesearched his memory for Club reminiscences of a Marie Delano of twentyyears earlier, or less. No such name rewarded his mental explorations, and Marie Delano was not a name likely to escape. 

He exclaimed aloud at his stupidity. The astute French woman was hardlylikely to return to the scene of her former triumphs with an innocentyoung daughter and an infamous name. Nor, apparently, had she carried itto Rouen after she had manifestly foresworn vice for the sake of herchild, even to the length of resigning herself to the dullness of aprovincial town. 

But "Jim"? Her husband? Could Bisbee have referred to some other Jim whohad "croaked" recently? Such women have more than one Jim in theirvoluminous lives. 

Ruyler had that order of mental temperament to which dubiety is theone unendurable condition; he had none of that cowardice whichpostpones an unpleasant solution until the inevitable moment. Whateverthis hideous mystery he would solve it as quickly as possible and thenput it out of his life. Beyond question poor Hélène was the victim ofblackmail; that was the logical explanation of her ill-concealedanxiety--misery, no doubt!

He wished she had had the courage to come directly to him, but it wasidle to expect the resolution of a woman of thirty in a child of twenty. It was apparent that she had even tried to shield her mother, for thatMadame Delano had been caught unaware to-day was indisputable. 

What incredible impudence--or courage?--to return here! There were otherresorts in the South and on the Eastern Coast where a pretty girl mightreap the harvest of innocent and lovely youth. 

Once more his mind abruptly focused itself. 

Shortly after his marriage Madame Delano had asked him casually if hecould inform her as to the reliability of a certain firm of lawyers, Lawton, Cross and Co. She "thought of buying a ranch, " and the firm hadbeen suggested to her by some one or other of these rich people. She alsowished to make a will. 

He had replied as casually that it was a leading firm, and forgotten theincident promptly. He recalled now that several times he had seen hismother-in-law coming out of the Monadnock Building, where this firm hadits offices. He had upon one occasion met her in the lift and she hadexplained with unaccustomed volubility that she was still thinking ofbuying a ranch, possibly in Napa County. She understood that quite afortune might be made in fruit, and it would be a diverting interest forher old age. Possibly she might encourage a favorite nephew to come outand help her run it. 

Ruyler, who had been absorbed in his own affairs and hated the sight ofany woman during business hours, had felt like telling her that if shewanted to sink her money in a ranch, that was as good a way to get rid ofit as any, but had merely nodded and left the elevator. He was not theman to give any one unasked advice and be snubbed for his pains. 

If "Jim" was her husband and had "croaked" some two years since, whatmore natural than that she had been obliged to come to California andsettle his estate? Lawton and Cross would keep her secret, as Californialawyers, with or without blackmail, had kept many others; perhaps she wasan old friend of Lawton's. He had been a "bird" in his time. 

Undoubtedly this was the solution. Otherwise she never would have riskedthe return to San Francisco, even with her changed appearance. 

III

It was time to dismiss speculation and proceed to action. He rang updetective headquarters and asked Jake Spaulding to come to him at once. 

Spaulding began: "But the matter ain't ripe yet, boss. Nothin' doin'last night--"

But Ruyler cut him short. "Please come immediately--no, not here. Meet meat Long's. "

He left the building and walked rapidly to a well-known bar whereestimable citizens, even when impervious to the seductions of cocktailand highball, often met in private soundproof rooms to discuss momentousdeals, or invoke the aid of detectives whose appearance in home or officemight cause the wary bird to fly away. 

The detective did not drink, so Ruyler ordered cigars, and a few momentslater Spaulding strolled in. His physical movements always belied hisnervous keen face. He was the antithesis of 'Gene Bisbee. All honest mencompelled to have dealings with him liked and trusted him. A rich mancould confide a disgraceful predicament to his keeping without fear ofblackmail, and a poor man, if his cause were interesting, might commandhis services with a nominal fee. He loved the work and regarded himselfas an artist, inasmuch as he was exercising a highly cultivated gift, notmerely pursuing a lucrative profession. He sometimes longed, it is true, for worthier objects upon which to lavish this gift, and he found them afew years later when the world went to war. He was one of the mostvaluable men in the Federal Secret Service before the end of 1915. 

"What's up?" he asked, as he took possession of the most comfortablechair in the little room and lit a cigar. "You look as if you hadn'tslept for a week, and you were lookin' fine yesterday. "

"Do you mind if I only half confide in you? It's a delicate matter. I'dlike to ask you a few questions and may possibly ask you to find theanswer to several others. "

"Fire away. Curiosity is not my vice. I'll only call for a clean breastif I find I can't work in the dark. "

"Thanks. Do--do you remember any woman of the town named--Marie Delano?"He swallowed hard but brought it out. "Who may have flourished herefifteen or twenty years ago?"

Spaulding knew that Ruyler's wife had been named Delano, but he refrainedfrom whistling and fixed his sharp honest blue eyes on the opposite wall. 

"Nope. Sounds fancy enough, but she was no Queen of the Red LightDistrict in S. F. "

"I was convinced she could not have been known under that name. Do youknow of any woman of that sort who was married--possibly--to a man whosefirst name was James--Jim--and who left abruptly, while she was stillyoung and handsome, just about fifteen years ago?"

"Lord, that's a poser! Do you mean to say she married and retired--landedsome simp? They do once in a while. Could tell you queer things aboutcertain ancestries in this old town. "

"No--I don't think that was it. I have reason to think she had beenmarried for at least six years before she left. Can't you think of anyMarie who was married to a Jim--in--in that class of life?"

"I was pretty much of a kid fifteen years ago, but I can recall quite afew Maries and even more Jims. But the Jims were much too wary to marrythe Maries. Try it again, partner. Let us approach from another angle. What did your Marie look like?"

"She must have been tall--uncommonly tall--with black hair and smallfeatures; black eyes that must have been large at that time. I--I--believe she had a very fine figure. "

"What nationality?"

"French. "

The detective recrossed his legs. "French. Oh, Lord! The town was fairlyoverrun with them. Made you think there was nothing in all this talkabout gay Paree. All the ladybirds seemed to have taken refuge here. Youhave no idea of her last name!"

"It might have been Perrin. "

"Never. Not after she got here and set up in business. More likelyLestrange or Delacourt--"

"Was there a Delacourt?"

"Not that I remember. I don't see light anywhere. Of course it won't takeme twenty-four hours to get hold of the history and appearance of everyqueen who was named Marie fifteen years ago, and your description helps alot. Records were burned, but some of the older men on the force arewalking archives. For the matter of that you might draw out some oldcodger in your club and get as much as I can give you--"

"Rather not! I think I'll have to give you my confidence. "

"Much the shortest and straightest route. Just fancy you're takin' anasty dose of medicine for the good of your health. I guess this is acase where I can't work in the dark. "

"Have you ever noticed an elderly woman, seated in the court of thePalace Hotel--immensely stout?"

"I should say I had. One of the sights of S. F. Why--of course--she's yourmother-in-law!"

"Has there been any talk about her!"

"Some comment on her size. And her childlike delight in watchin'the show. "

"Nothing else? No one has claimed to recognize her?"

Spaulding sat up straight, his nose pointing. "Recognize her? Whatd'you mean?"

"I mean that I overheard a conversation--one-sided--to-day on theCalifornia Street dummy, in which Bisbee accused Madame Delanopractically of what I have told you. At least that is the way Iinterpreted it. He called her Marie, alluded in an unmistakable manner toa disgraceful past in which he had known her intimately, and wasconfident that he recognized her in spite of her flesh and white hair. Iam positive that she recognized him, although she was clever enough notto reply. "

"Jimminy! The plot thickens. That scoundrel never forgot a face in hislife. I don't train with him--not by a long sight--so if there's been anytalk in his bunch, I naturally wouldn't have heard it. You say her nameis Marie now?"

"Yes. "

"And Perrin is her real name?"

"She comes of a well-known family of Rouen of that name. She lived therewith her child for at least thirteen years before her return toCalifornia. Of that I am certain. Her daughter is now twenty. I wish toknow where she kept that child during the first five years of its life. Ihave reason to think it was in the Ursuline Convent at St. Peter. "

"That's easy settled. And you think the father's first name was Jim?"

"She told me that his name was James Delano. Also that he died within thefirst year of their marriage, when the child was two months old, duringthe voyage to Japan. That may be, but I can see no reason for herreturning here unless he died more recently and the settlement of hisestate demanded her presence. "

"Pretty good reasoning, particularly if you are sure she stayed hereuntil the child was five. Some of them have pretty decent instincts. Shemay have made up her mind to give the kid a chance, and returned to herrelations. Of course we must assume that they knew nothing of her life. "

"I am positive they did not. But there had been some sort ofestrangement. I have been given to understand that it was because shemarried an American. Of course she may not have written to them at allfor six or seven years. Her story is that she was visiting otherrelatives in a place called Holbrook Centre, Vermont, and met this manand married him. Then that he was detained by business in San Franciscofor several months, and the child born here. "

"Good commonplace story. Just the sort that is never questioned. Ofcourse if she did not correspond with her family during all that time shecould adopt any name for her return to respectability that she chose. Delano wasn't it? That's certain. What line do you intend to take? AfterI've delivered the facts?"

"My object is to have the child's legitimacy established, if possible, then see that Madame Delano leaves California forever. I think that shecould be terrified by a threat of blackmail. I can't imagine the merechance of recognition worrying her, for I should say she had as muchcourage as presence of mind. But her passion is money. If she thoughtthere was any danger of being forced to hand over what she has I fancyshe would get out as quickly as possible. She is an intelligent woman andI imagine she has taken a sardonic pleasure in sitting out in full viewof San Francisco, and getting away with it. "

"And marrying her girl to the greatest catch in California, " thought thedetective, but he said:

"I believe you're dead right, although, of course, there may be nothingin it. Even 'Gene Bisbee might be mistaken, pryin' a gazelle out of anelephant like that. Now, tell me all you know. "

When Ruyler had covered every point Spaulding nodded. "It's possible thisJim was the maquereau and she made him marry her for the sake of thechild. Doubt if the date can be proved except through the lawyers, and itwill be hard to make them talk. Of course if there is a Holbrook Centreand she was married there--but I have my doubts. The point is that heevidently married her if she is settlin' up his estate. I'll find outwhat Jims have died within the last three years or so. That's easy. Thedirect route to the one we want is through St. Peter. I'll go upto-night. "

"And you'll report to-morrow?"

"Yep. Meet me here at six P. M. Lucky the man seems to have died afterthe fire. I'll set some one on the job of searching death recordsright away. "

CHAPTER IV

I

Ruyler had half promised to go to a dinner that night at the house ofJohn Gwynne, whose wife would chaperon his wife afterward to the last ofthe Assembly dances. 

Gwynne was his English friend who had abandoned the ancient titleinherited untimely when he was making a reputation in the House ofCommons, and become an American citizen in California, where he had alarge ranch originally the property of an American grandmother. Hismigration had been justified in his own eyes by his ready adaptation tothe land of his choice and to the opportunities offered in the rebuildingof San Francisco after the earthquake and fire, as well as in therenovation of its politics. He had made his ranch profitable, read law asa stepping-stone to the political career, and had just been elected toCongress. Ruyler was one of his few intimate friends and had promised togo to this farewell dinner if possible. A place would be kept vacant forhim until the last minute. 

Gwynne had married Isabel Otis[A], a Californian of distinguished beautyand abilities, whose roots were deep in San Francisco, although she had"run a ranch" in Sonoma County. The Gwynnes and the Thorntons untilRuyler met Hélène had been the friends whose society he had sought mostin his rare hours of leisure, and he had spent many summer week-ends attheir country homes. He had hoped that the intimacy would deepen afterhis marriage, but Hélène during the past year had gone almost exclusivelywith the younger set, the "dancing squad"; natural enough considering herage, but Ruyler would have expected a girl of so much intelligence, tosay nothing of her severe education, to have tired long since of thatartificial wing of society devoted solely to froth, and gravitatednaturally toward the best the city afforded. But she had appeared to likethe older women better at first than later, although she accepted theirinvitations to large dinners and dances. 

[Footnote A: See "Ancestors. "]

Ruyler made up his mind to attend this dinner at Gwynne's, and telephonedhis acceptance before he left Long's. Business or no business, he shouldbe his wife's bodyguard hereafter. There were blackmailers in society asout of it, and it was possible that his ubiquity would frighten them off. Whether to demand his wife's confidence or not he was undecided. Betterlet events determine. 

II

When he arrived at home he went directly to Hélène's room, but pausedwith his hand on the knob of the door. He heard his mother-in-law's voiceand she was the last person he wished to meet until he was in a positionto tell her to leave the country. He was turning away impatiently whenMadame Delano lifted her hard incisive tones. 

"And you promised me!" she exclaimed passionately. "I trusted you, Inever believed--"

Price retreated hurriedly to his own room, and it was not until hehad taken a cold shower and was half dressed that he permittedhimself to think. 

That wretch had known, then! It was she who had been blackmailing herdaughter. And the poor child had been afraid to confide in him, to askhim for money. No wonder her eyes had flashed at the prospect of afortune of her own. .. . 

An even less welcome ray illuminated his mind at this point. His wife wasnot unversed in the arts of dissimulation herself. True, she was Frenchand took naturally to diplomatic wiles; true, also, the instinct ofself-preservation in even younger members of a sex that man in hiscenturies of power had made, superficially, the weaker, was rarely inert. 

What woman would wish her husband to know disgraceful ancestral secretswhich were no fault of hers? A much older woman would not be aboveentombing them, if the fates were kind. But it saddened him to think thathis wife should be rushed to maturity along the devious way. Poor child, he must win her confidence as quickly as his limping wits would permitand shift her burden to his own shoulders. 

Having learned through the medium of the house telephone that hismother-in-law had departed, he knocked at his wife's door. She opened itat once and there was no mark of agitation on her little oval face underits proudly carried crown of heavy braids. She was looking very lovely ina severe black velvet gown whose texture and depth cunningly matched hereyes and threw into a relief as artful the white purity of her skin andthe delicate pink of lip and cheek. 

She smiled at him brilliantly. "It can't be true that you aregoing with me?"

"I've reformed. I shall go with you everywhere from this time forth. ButI thought I heard your mother's voice when I came in--"

"She often comes in about dressing time to see me in a new frock. Howheavenly that you will always go with me. " Her voice shook a little andshe leaned over to smooth a possible wrinkle in her girdle. 

"Will you come down to the library? We are rather early. "

He went directly to the safe and took out the ruby and clasped the chainabout her neck. The chain was long and the great jewel took a deeper andmore mysterious color from the somber background of her bodice. 

Hélène gasped. "Am I to wear it to-night? That would be too wonderful. This is the last great night in town. "

"Why not? I shall be there to mount guard. You shall always wear it whenI am able to go out with you. "

She lifted her radiant face, although it remained subtly immobile with anew and almost formal self-possession. "I am even more delighted than Iwas yesterday, for at the fête there will be so much novelty to distractattention. You always think of the nicest possible things. "

When they were in the taxi he put his arm about her. 

"I wonder, " he began gropingly, "if you would mind not going out when Icannot go with you? I'll go as often as I can manage. There arereasons--"

He felt her light body grow rigid. "Reasons? You told me onlyyesterday--"

"I know. But I have been thinking it over. That is rather a fast lot yourun with. I know, of course, they are F. F. C. 's, and all the rest of it, but if I ever drove up to the Club House in Burlingame in the morning andsaw you sitting on the veranda smoking and drinking gin fizzes--"

"You never will! I could not swallow a gin fizz, or any nasty mixeddrink. And although I have had my cigarette after meals ever since I wasfifteen, I never smoke in public. "

"I confess I cannot see you in the picture that rose for some perversereason in my mind; but--well, you really are too young to go about somuch without your husband--"

"I am always chaperoned to the large affairs. Mrs. Gwynne takes me to theFairmont to-night. "

"I know. But scandal is bred in the marrow of San Francisco. Its socialhistory is founded upon it, and it is almost a matter of principle toreplace decaying props. Do you mind so much not going about unless I canbe with you?"

"No, of course not. " Her voice was sweet and submissive, but her body didnot relax. She added graciously: "After all, there are so many luncheons, and we often dance in the afternoon. "

He had not thought of that! What avail to guard her merely in theevening? It was not her life that was in danger. .. . 

And he seemed as immeasurably far from obtaining her confidence asbefore. He had always understood that the ways of matrimonial diplomacywere strewn with pitfalls and wished that some one had opened a schoolfor married men before his time. 

He made another clumsy attempt. The cab was swift and had almost coveredthe long distance between the Western Addition and Russian Hill. "Otherthings have worried me. You are so generous. Society here as elsewherehas its parasites, its dead beats, trying to limp along by borrowing, gambling, 'amusing, ' doing dirty work of various sorts. It has worried melest one or more of these creatures may have tried to impose on you withhard luck tales--borrow--"

She laughed hysterically. "Price, you are too funny! I do lendoccasionally--to the girls, when their allowance runs out before thefirst of the month; but I don't know any dead beats. "

He plunged desperately. "Your mother's voice sounded rather agitated forher. Of course I did not stop to listen, but it occurred to me that shemay have been gambling in stocks, or have got into some bad land deal. She is so confoundedly close-mouthed--if she wants money send her to me. "

Hélène sat very straight. Her little aquiline profile against the passingstreet lights was as aloof as imperial features on an ancient coin. 

"Really, Price, I don't think you can be as busy as you pretend if youhave time to indulge in such flights of imagination. Maman has nevertried to borrow a penny of me, and she is the last person on earth togamble in stocks or any thing else. Or to buy land except on expertadvice. I think she has given up that idea, anyhow. She said this eveningshe thought it was time for her to visit our people in Rouen. "

"Oh, she did! Hélène, I must tell you frankly that I heard her reproachyou for having broken a promise, and she spoke with deep feeling. "

It was possible that the Roman profile turned white, but in the dusk ofthe car he could not be sure. His wife, however, merely shrugged hershoulders and replied calmly:

"My dear Price, if that has worried you, why didn't you say so at once? Iam rather ashamed to tell you, all the same. Maman has been at me latelyto persuade you to let her have the ruby for a week. She is dreadfullysuperstitious, poor maman, and is convinced it would bring her sometremendous good fortune--"

"I have never met a woman who, I could swear, was freer fromsuperstition--"

Price closed his lips angrily. Of what use to tax her feminine defensesfurther? He had known her long enough to be sure she would rather tellthe truth than lie. It was evident that she had no intention of loweringher barriers, and he must play the game from the other end: get the proofhe needed and engineer his mother-in-law out of the United States. 

Some time, however, he would have it out with his wife. Being a businessman and always alert to outwit the other man, he wanted neither intriguenor mystery in his home, but a serene happiness founded upon perfectconfidence. He found it impossible to remain appalled or angry at hiswife's readiness of resource in guarding a family secret that must haveshocked the youth in her almost out of existence. 

He patted her hand, and felt its chill within the glove. 

"It was like you never to have mentioned it, " he murmured. "For, ofcourse, it is quite impossible. "

"That is what I told her decidedly to-night, and I do not think she willask again. It hurts me to refuse dear maman anything. Her devotion to mehas been wonderful--but wonderful, " she added on a defiant note. 

"A mother's devotion, particularly to a girl of your sort, does not makeany call upon my exclamation points. But here we are. "

 * * * * *

The car rolled up the graded driveway Gwynne had built for the old SanFrancisco house that before his day had been approached by an almostperpendicular flight of wooden steps. They were late and the companyhad assembled: the Thorntons, Trennahans, and eight or ten youngpeople, all of whom would be chaperoned by the married women to thedance at the Fairmont. 

Russian Hill had escaped the fire, but Nob Hill had been burnt down toits bones, and the Thorntons and Trennahans had not rebuilt, preferring, like many others, to live the year round in their country homes and usethe hotels in winter. 

The moment Hélène entered the drawing-room it was evident that the rubywas to make as great a sensation as the soul of woman could desire. Eventhe older people flocked about her and the girls were frank and shrill intheir astonishment and rapture. 

"Hélène! Darling! The duckiest thing--I never saw anything so perfectlydandy and wonderful! I'd go simply mad! Do, just let me touch it! Icould eat it!"

Mrs. Thornton, who at any time scorned to conceal envy, or pretendindifference, looked at the great burning stone with a sigh and turned toher husband. 

"Why didn't you manage to get it for me?" she demanded. "It would be farmore suitable--a magnificent stone like that!--on me than on that baby. "

"My darling, " murmured Ford anxiously, "I never laid eyes on the thingbefore, or on one like it. I'll find out where Ruyler got it, and try--"

"Do you suppose I'd come out with a duplicate? You should have thought ofit years ago. You always promised to take me to India. "

"It should be on you!" He gazed at her adoringly. Her hair was dressedin a high and stately fashion to-night. She wore a gown of gold brocadeand a necklace and little tiara of emeralds and diamonds; she waslooking very handsome and very regal. Thornton was a thin, dark, nervouswisp of a man, who had borne his share of the burdens laid upon his cityin the cataclysm of 1906, but if his wife had demanded an enormoushistoric ruby he would have done his best to gratify her. But how thedeuce could a man--

Mrs. Gwynne was holding the stone in her hand and smiling into itsflaming depths without envy. She was one of those women of dazzling whiteskin, black hair and blue eyes, who, when wise, never wear any jewels butpearls. She wore the Gwynne pearls to-night and a shimmering white gown. 

Ruyler glanced round the fine old room with the warm feeling ofsatisfaction he always experienced at a San Francisco function, where thewomen were almost as invariably pretty as they were gay and friendly. Hedid not like the younger men he met on these occasions as well as he didmany of the older ones; the serious ones would not waste their time onsociety, and there were too many of the sort who were asked everywherebecause they had made a cult of fashion, whether they could afford it ornot. A few were the sons of wealthy parents, and were more dissipatedthan those obliged to "hold down" a job that provided them with moneyenough above their bare living expenses to make them useful andpresentable. 

Ruyler looked upon both sorts as cumberers of the earth, and onlytolerated them in his own house when his wife gave a party and dancingmen must be had at any price. 

There was one man here to-night for whom he had always held particulardetestation. His name was Nicolas Doremus. He was a broker in a smallway, but Ruyler guessed that he made the best part of his income atbridge, possibly poker. He lived with two other men in a handsomeapartment in one of the new buildings that were changing the old skylineof San Francisco. His dancing teas and suppers were admirably appointedand the most exclusive people went to them. 

Ruyler knew his history in a general way. His father had made a fortunein "Con. Virginia" in the Seventies, and his mother for a few years hadbeen the social equal of the women who now patronized her son. Butunfortunately the gambling microbe settled down in Harry Doremus' veins, and shortly after his son was born he engaged his favorite room at theCliff House and blew out his brains. His wife was left with a largehouse, which as a last act of grace he had forborne to mortgage and madeover to her by deed. She immediately advertised for boarders, and as hercooking was excellent and she had the wit to drop out of society and giveher undivided attention to business, she prospered exceedingly. 

She concentrated her ambitions upon her only child; sent him to a privateschool patronized by the sons of the wealthy, and herself taught himevery ingratiating social art. She wanted him to go to college, but bythis time "Nick" was nineteen and as highly developed a snob as hermaternal heart had planned. Knowing that he must support himselfeventually, he was determined to begin his business career at once, andbelieved, with some truth, that there was a prejudice in this broad fieldagainst college men. He entered the brokerage firm of a bachelor who hadoccupied Mrs. Doremus' best suite for fifteen years, and made asatisfactory clerk, the while he cultivated his mother's old friends. 

When Mrs. Doremus died he sold the house and good will for a considerablesum, and, combining it with her respectable savings, formed a partnershipwith two other young fellows, whose fathers were rich, but old-fashionedenough to insist that their sons should work. Nick did most of the work. His partners, during the rainy season, sat with their feet on theradiator and read the popular magazines, and in fine weather upheld theoutdoor traditions of the state. 

The firm had a slender patronage, as Ruyler happened to know, but Doremuswas a member of the Pacific Union Club, and although he dined out everynight, he must have spent six or seven thousand a year. It was amiablyassumed that his social services, --he played and sang and oftenentertained exacting groups throughout an entire evening--his fetchingand carrying for one rich old lady, accounted for his ability to keep outof debt and pay for his many extravagances; but Ruyler knew that he wasprincipally esteemed at the small green table, and he vaguely recalled ashe looked over his head to-night that he had heard disconnected murmursof less honorable sources of revenue. 

As Ruyler turned away with a frown he met Gwynne's eyes traveling fromthe same direction. "I didn't ask him, " he said apologetically. "Hate mentoo well dressed. Looks as if he posed for tailors' ads in the weeklies. Never could stand the social parasite anyhow, but Aileen Lawton askedIsabel to let her bring him, as they are going to open the ball to-nightwith some new kind of turkey trot. 

"Glad I'm off for Washington. California's the greatest place on earth inthe dry season, but I'd have passed few winters here if it hadn't beenfor the work we all had to do, and even then it would have been heavygoing without my wife's companionship. "

Ruyler sighed. Should he ever enjoy his wife's companionship? And intowhat sort of woman would she develop if forced along crooked ways by uglysecrets, blackmail, perpetual lying and deceit? He longed impatiently forthe decisive interview with Spaulding on the morrow. Then, at least hecould prepare for action, and, after all, even of more importance nowthan winning his wife's confidence and saving her from mental anguish, was the averting of a scandal that would echo across the continentstraight into the ears of his half-reconciled father. 

IV

It was about halfway through dinner that the primitive man in him routedevery variety of apprehension that had tormented him since two o'clockthat afternoon. 

Trennahan, another distinguished New Yorker, who had made his home inCalifornia for many years, had taken in Mrs. Gwynne, and his SpanishCalifornia wife sat at the foot of the table with the host. Ford hadbeen given a lively girl, Aileen Lawton, to dissipate the financialanxieties of the day, and, to Ruyler's satisfaction, Mrs. Thornton hadfallen to his lot and he sat on the left of Isabel. In this little groupat the head of the table, his chosen intimates, who were more interestedin the affairs of the world than in Consummate California, Ruyler hadforgotten his wife for a time and had not noticed with whom she had gonein to dinner. 

But during an interval when Mrs. Thornton's attention had been capturedby the man on her right, and the others drawn into a discussion overthe merits of the new mayor, Price became aware that Doremus sat besidehis wife halfway down the table on the opposite side, and that theywere talking, if not arguing, in a low tone, oblivious for the momentof the company. 

The deferential bend was absent from the neck of the adroit socialexplorer, his head was alertly poised above the lovely young matron whosebeauty, wealth, and foreign personality, to say nothing of the importanceof her husband, gave her something of the standing of royalty in thearistocratic little republic of San Francisco Society. There was a vaguethreat in that poise, as if at any moment venom might dart down andstrike that drooping head with its crown of blue-black braids. SuddenlyHélène lifted her eyes, full of appeal, to the round pale blue orbs thatat this moment openly expressed a cold and ruthless mind. 

Ruyler endeavored to piece together those disconnected whispers--lettersdiscovered or stolen--blackmail--but such whispers were too often thewhiffs from energetic but empty minds, always floating about and neverseeming to bring any culprit to book. 

Had this man got hold of his wife's secret?

But this merely sequacious thought was promptly routed. The young man, who was undeniably good looking and was rumored to possess a certain coldcharm for women--although, to be sure, the wary San Francisco heiress hadso far been impervious to it--was now leaning over Mrs. Price Ruyler witha coaxing possessive air, and the appeal left Hélène's eyes as she smiledcoquettishly and began to talk with her usual animation; but still in atone that was little more than a murmur. 

She moved her shoulder closer to the man she evidently was bent uponfascinating, and her long eyelashes swept up and down while her blackeyes flashed and her pink color deepened. 

There was a faint amusement mixed with Doremus' habitual air of amiabledeference, and somewhat more of assurance, but he was as absorbed asHélène and had no eyes for Janet Maynard, on his left, whose fortune raninto millions. 

For a moment Ruyler, who had kept his nerve through several years ofracking strain which, even an American is seldom called upon to survive, wondered if he were losing his mind. To business and all its fluctuationsand even abnormalities, he had been bred; there was probably no conditionpossible in the world of finance and commerce which could shatter hisself-possession, cloud his mental processes. But his personal life hadbeen singularly free of storms. Even his emotional upheaval, when he hadfallen completely in love for the first time, had lacked that torment ofuncertainty which might have played a certain havoc, for a time, withthose quick unalterable decisions of the business hour; and even hisengagement had only lasted a month. 

It was true that during the past six months he had worried off and onabout the shadow that had fallen upon his wife's spirits and affected hisown, but, when he had had time to think of it, before yesterday morning, he had assumed it was due to some phase of feminine psychology which hehad never mastered. That she could be interested in another man never hadcrossed his mind, in spite of his passing flare of jealousy. She wasstill passionately in love with, him, for all her vagaries--or so he hadthought--

Ruyler was conscious of a riotous confusion of mind that really made himapprehensive. Had he witnessed that scene on the dummy--thisafternoon?--it seemed a long while ago--had he heard those portentouswords of his mother-in-law to his wife?--had they meant that she hadwarned her daughter against the bad blood in her veins, extracted apromise--broken!--to walk in the narrow way of the dutifulwife--mercifully spared by a fortunate marriage the terrible temptationsof the older woman's youth? Had Hélène confessed . .. In desperate need ofhelp, advice? . .. Doremus was just the bounder to compromise a woman andthen blackmail her. .. . Good God! What _was_ it?

For all his mental turmoil he realized that here alone was the onlypossible menace to his life's happiness. His mother-in-law's past was abitter pill for a proud man to swallow, and there was even thepossibility of his wife's illegitimacy, but, after all, those werematters belonging to the past, and the past quickly receded to limbothese days. 

Even an open scandal, if some one of the offal sheets of San Franciscogot hold of the story and published it, would be forgotten in time. Butthis--if his wife had fallen in love with another man--and women had nodiscrimination where love was concerned--(if a decent chap got a lovelygirl it was mainly by luck; the rotters got just as good)--then indeed hewas in the midst of disaster without end. The present was chaos and thefuture a blank. He'd enlist in the first war and get himself shot. .. . 

Hélène had a charming light coquetry, wholly French, and she exercised itindiscriminately, much to the delight of the old beaux, for she loved toplease, to be admired; she had an innocent desire that all men shouldthink her quite beautiful and irresistible. Even her husband had neverseen her in an unbecoming _déshabillé_; she coquetted with himshamelessly, whenever she was not too gloriously serious and intent onlyupon making him happy. Until lately--

This was by no means her ordinary form. 

He had come upon too many couples in remote corners of conservatories, had been a not unaccomplished principal in his own day . .. There was, beyond question, some deep understanding between her and this man. 

Suddenly Ruyler's gaze burned through to his wife's consciousness. Shemoved her eyes to his, flushed to her hair, then for a moment lookedalmost gray. But she recovered herself immediately and further showed herremarkable powers of self-possession by turning back to her partner andtalking to him with animation instead of plunging into conversation withthe man on her right. 

At the same moment Ruyler became subtly aware that Mrs. Thornton waslooking at his wife and Doremus, and as his eyes focused he saw her long, thin, mobile mouth curl and her eyes fill with open disdain. The mist inhis brain fled as abruptly as an inland fog out in the bay before one ofthe sudden winds of the Pacific. In any case, his mind hardly could haveremained in a state of confusion for long; but that his young wife wasbeing openly contemned by the cleverest as well as the most powerfulwoman in San Francisco was enough to restore his equilibrium in a flash. Whatever his wife's indiscretions, it was his business to protect heruntil such time as he had proof of more than indiscretion. And in thisinstance he should be his own detective. 

He turned to Mrs. Thornton. 

"Going on to the Fairmont?" he asked. 

"Oh, yes, I have a new gown--have you admired it? Arrived from Paris lastnight--and I am chaperoning two of these girls. You are not, of course?"

"I did intend to, but it's no go. Still, I may drop in late and take mywife home--"

"Let me take her home. " Was his imagination morbid, or was theresomething both peremptory and eager in Mrs. Thornton's tones? "I'mstopping at the Fairmont, of course, but Fordy and I often take a driveafter a hot night and a heavy supper. "

"If you would take her home in case I miss it. I must go to the office--"

"I'd like to. That's settled. " This time her tones were warm andfriendly. Ruyler knew that Mrs. Thornton did not like his wife, but herfriendliness toward him, since her return from Europe three or fourmonths ago, had increased, if anything. His mind was now working with itsaccustomed keen clarity. He recalled that there had been no surprisemixed with the contempt in her regard of his wife and Doremus. .. . He alsorecalled that several times of late when he had met her at theFairmont--where he often lunched with a group of men--she had regardedhim with a curious considering glance, which he suddenly vocalized as:"How long?"

This affair had been going on for some time, then. Either it was commontalk, or some circumstance had enlightened Mrs. Thornton alone. 

He glanced around the table. No one appeared to be taking the slightestnotice of one of many flirtations. At least, whatever his wife'sinfatuation, he could avert gossip. Mrs. Thornton might be a tigress, butshe was not a cat. 

"When do you go down to Burlingame?" she asked. 

"Not for two or three weeks yet. I don't fancy merely sleeping in thecountry. But by that time things will ease up a bit and I can get downevery day in time to have a game of golf before dinner. "

"Shall Mrs. Ruyler migrate with the rest?"

"Hardly. "

"It will be dull for her in town. No reflections on your charmingsociety, but of course she does not get much of it, and she will miss heryoung friends. After all, she is a child and needs playmates. "

Ruyler darted at her a sharp look, but she was smiling amiably. Doremusand the men he lived with, in town had a bungalow at Burlingame and theybought their commutation tickets at precisely the fashionable moment. "She will stay in town, " he said shortly. "She needs a rest, and SanFrancisco is the healthiest spot on earth. "

"But trying to the nerves when what we inaccurately call the trade windsbegin. Why not let her stay with me? Of course she would be lonely in herown house, and is too young to stay there alone anyhow, but I'd like toput her up, and you certainly could run down week-ends--possibly oftener. American men are always obsessed with the idea that they are twice asbusy as they really are. "

"You are too good. I'll put it up to Hélène. Of course it is for her todecide. I'd like it mighty well. " But grateful as he was, his uneasinessdeepened at her evident desire to place her forces at his disposal. 

CHAPTER V

I

"And you won't take me to the party?" Hélène pouted charmingly as herhusband laid her pink taffeta wrap over her shoulders. "I thought yousaid you might make it, and it would be too delightful to dance with youonce more. "

"I'm afraid not. The Australian mail came in just as business closed andit's on my mind. I want to go over it carefully before I dictate theanswers in the morning, and that means two or three hours of hard workthat will leave me pretty well fagged out. Mrs. Thornton has offered totake you home. "

"I hate her. "

"Oh, please don't!" Ruyler smiled into her somber eyes. "She wants thedrive, and it would be taking the Gwynnes so far out of the way. Mrs. Thornton very kindly suggested it. "

"I hate her, " said Hélène conclusively. "I wish now I'd kept my own car. Then I could always go home alone. "

"You shall have a car next winter. And this time I shall not permit youto pay for it out of your allowance--which in any case I hope to increaseby that time. "

Her eyes flamed, but not with anger. "Then I'll sell my electric toAileen Lawton right away. We have the touring car in the country, andshe has been trying to make her father buy her an electric--"

"I'm afraid you'll be disappointed in your bargain. Second-hand cars, nomatter what their condition, always go at a sacrifice, and old Lawton isa notorious screw. Better not let it go for two or three hundreds; youlook very sweet driving about in it. .. . Oh, by the way--I hadforgotten. " He slipped his hand under her coat, unfastened the chain andslipped the jewel into his pocket. "I am sorry, " he said, with realcontrition, "and almost wish I had forgotten the thing; but I am a littlesuperstitious about keeping that old promise. "

She laughed. "And yet you will not permit poor maman a littlesuperstition of her own! But I am rather glad. Everybody at the ball willhear of the ruby, and I shall be able to keep them in suspense until theThornton fête. Good night. Don't work too hard. Couldn't you get therefor supper?"

"'Fraid not. "

II

He did go down to the office and glance through the Australian mail, but at a few moments before twelve he took a California Street car upto the Fairmont Hotel and went directly to the ballroom. Mrs. Thornton was standing just within the doorway, but came toward himwith lifted eyebrows. 

"This is like old times, " she said playfully. 

"I found less mail than I expected and thought I would come and have adance with my wife. " His eyes wandered over the large room, gaylydecorated, and filled with dancing couples. 

Mrs. Thornton laughed. "A belle like your wife? She is always engaged forevery dance on her program before she is halfway down this corridor. "

"Oh, well, husbands have some rights. I'll take it by force. I don't seeher--she must be sitting out. "

Mrs. Thornton slipped her arm through his. "This dance has just begun. Walk me up and down. I am tired of standing on one foot. "

They strolled down the corridor and through the large central hall. Olderfolks sat or stood in groups; a few young couples were sitting out. Ruyler did not see his wife, and concluded she had been resting at themoment in the dowager ranks against the wall of the ballroom. The musicceased sooner than he expected and Mrs. Thornton, who had been talkingwith animation on the subject of several fine pictures she had boughtwhile abroad for the Museum in Golden Gate Park, including one byMasefield Price, broke off with an impatient exclamation: "Bother! I mustrun up to my room at once and telephone. Wait for me here. "

She steered him toward a group of men. "Mr. Gwynne, keep Mr. Ruyler fromcausing a riot in the ballroom. He insists upon dancing with his wife. Hold him by force. "

They were standing near the staircase and some distance from the lift. Mrs. Thornton ran up the stairs, pausing for an irresistible moment andlooking down at the company. As she stood there, poised, she looked aroyal figure with her cloth of gold train covering the steps below herand her high and flashing head. "Wait for me, " she said, imperiously toPrice. "I cannot meander down that corridor, deserted and alone. "

Ruyler smiled at her, but said to Gwynne: "I'll just go and engage mywife for a dance and be back in a jiffy--"

Gwynne clasped his hand about Ruyler's arm. "Just a moment, old chap. Iwant your opinion--"

"But there is the music again. I'll be knocking people over--"

"You will if you go now, and there'll be dancing for hours yet. Your wifehas been dividing up--now, tell me if you back me in this proposition ornot. I'm going to Washington to represent you fellows--"

But Ruyler had broken politely away and was walking down the longcorridor. When he arrived at the ballroom he saw at a glance that hiswife was not there, for the floor was only half filled. But there wereother rooms where dancers sat in couples or groups when tired. He wenthastily through all of them, but saw nothing of his wife. Nor of Doremus. 

Mrs. Thornton had gone in search of her. 

And Gwynne knew. 

This time the hot blood was pounding in his head. He felt as he imaginedmadmen did when about to run amok. Or quite as primitive as anyCalifornian of the surging "Fifties. "

He was in one of the smaller rooms and he sat down in a corner with hisback to the few people in it and endeavored to take hold of himself; theconventional training of several lifetimes and his own intense prideforbade a scene in public. But his curved fingers longed for Doremus'throat and he made up his mind that if his awful suspicions werevindicated he would beat his wife black and blue. That was far moresensible and manly than running whining to a divorce court. 

The effort at self-control left him gasping, but when he rose from hisshelter he was outwardly composed, and determined to seek Gwynne andforce the truth from him. He would not discuss his wife with anotherwoman. And whatever this hideous tragedy brooding over his life he wouldgo out and come to grips with it at once. 

III

And in the corridor he saw his wife chatting gayly with a group of youngfriends. Her color was paler than usual, perhaps, but that was notuncommon at a party, and otherwise she was as unruffled, as normal inappearance and manner, as when they had parted at the Gwynnes'. 

Nevertheless, he went directly up to her, and as she gave a little cry ofpleased surprise, he drew her hand through his arm. "Come!" he saidimperiously. "You are to dance this with me. I broke away on purpose--"

"But, darling, I am full up--"

"You have skipped at least two. I have been looking everywhere for you--"

"Polly Roberts dragged me upstairs to see the new gowns M. Dupont broughther from Paris. They came this afternoon--so did Mrs. Thornton's--but ofcourse I'll dance this with you. You don't look well, " she addedanxiously. "Aren't you?"

"Quite, but rather tired--mentally. I need a dance. .. . "

He wondered if she had gently propelled him down the corridor. They weresome distance from the group. It was impossible for him to go back andask if his wife's story were true. Mrs. Thornton was nowhere to be seen, neither in the corridor nor in the ballroom. Nor was Doremus. He set histeeth grimly and managed to smile down upon his wife. 

"I shall insist upon having more than one, " he said gallantly. "At leastthree hesitations. "

She drew in her breath with a mock sigh and swept from under her longlashes a glance that still had the power to thrill him. "Outrageous, butI shall try to bear up, " and the next moment they were giving a gracefulexhibition of the tango. 

"I don't see your friend Doremus, " he said casually, as he stood fanningher at the end of the dance. 

She lifted her eyebrows haughtily. "My friend? That parasite?"

"You seemed very friendly at dinner. "

"I usually am with my dinner companion. One's hostess is to beconsidered. Oh--I remember--he was telling me some very amusing gossip, although he teased me into fearing he wouldn't. Now, if you are going todance this hesitation with me you had better whirl me off. It is Mr. Thornton's, and I see him coming. "

Ruyler did not see Doremus until supper was half over and then the youngman entered the dining-room hurriedly, his usually serene brow loweringand his lips set. He walked directly up to Hélène. 

"Beastly luck!" he exclaimed. "Hello, Ruyler. Didn't know you honoredparties any more. I had to break away to meet the Overland train--beastlything was late, of course. Then I had to take them to five hotels beforeI could settle them. They had two beastly little dogs and the hotelswouldn't take them in and they wouldn't give up the dogs. Some one oughtto set up a high-class dog hotel. Sure it would pay. But you'll give methe first after supper, won't you?"

Hélène gave him a casual smile that was a poor reward for his elaborateapology. "So sorry, " she said with the sweet distant manner in which shedisposed of bores and climbers, "but Mr. Ruyler and I are both tired. Weare going home directly after supper. "

CHAPTER VI

I

On the following day at six o'clock Ruyler went to Long's to meet JakeSpaulding. By a supreme effort of will he had put his private affairs outof his mind and concentrated on the business details which demanded themost highly trained of his faculties. But now he felt relaxed, almostlanguid, as he walked along Montgomery Street toward the rendezvous. Hemet no one he knew. The historic Montgomery Street, once the center ofthe city's life, was almost deserted, but half rebuilt. He could saunterand think undisturbed. 

What was he to hear? And what bearing would it be found to have on hiswife's conduct?

He had gone to sleep last night as sure as a man may be of anything thathis wife was no more interested in Doremus than in any other of theyoung men who found time to dance attendance upon idle, bored, butvirtuous wives. 

If the man knew her secret and were endeavoring to exact blackmail hewould pay his price with joy--after thrashing him, for he would havesacrificed the half of his fortune never to experience again not only thedemoralizing attack of jealous madness of the night before, which hadbrought in its wake the uneasy doubt if civilization were as far advancedas he had fondly imagined, but the sensation of amazed contempt which hadswept over him at the dinner table as he had seen his wife, whom he hadbelieved to be a woman of instinctive taste and fastidiousness, manifestly upon intimate terms with a creature who should have beenwalking on four legs. Better, perhaps, the desire to kill a woman than todespise her--

He slammed the door when he entered the little room reserved for him, andbarely restrained himself from flinging his hat into a corner andbreaking a chair on the table. His languor had vanished. 

Spaulding followed him immediately. 

"Howdy, " he said genially, as he pushed his own hat on the back of hishead and bit hungrily at the end of a cigar. "Suppose you've beenimpatient--unless too busy to think about it. "

"I'd like to know what you've found out as quickly as you can tell me. "

"Well, to begin with the kid. I had some trouble at the convent. They'rea close-mouthed lot, nuns. But I frightened them. Told them it was aproperty matter, and unless they answered my questions privately they'dhave to answer them in court. Then they came through. "

"Well?"

Spaulding lit his cigar and handed the match to Ruyler, who ground itunder his heel. 

"Just about nineteen years ago a Frenchwoman, giving her name as MadameDubois, arrived one day with a child a year old and asked the nuns totake care of it, promising a fancy payment. The child had been on a farmwith a wet-nurse (French style), but Madame Dubois wanted it to learnfrom the first to speak proper English and French, and to live in arefined atmosphere generally from the time it was able to take notice. She said she was on the stage and had to travel, so was not able to givethe kid the attention it should have, and the doctor had told her thattraveling was bad for kids that age, anyhow. Her lawyers would pay thebaby's board on the first of every month--"

"Who were the lawyers?"

"Lawton and Cross. "

"I thought so. Go on. "

"The nuns, who, after all, knew their California, thought they smelt arat, for the woman was extraordinarily handsome, magnificently dressed;the Mother Superior--who is a woman of the world, all right--read thenewspapers, and had never seen the name of Dubois--and knew that onlystars drew fat salaries. She asked some sharp questions about the father, and the woman replied readily that he was a scientific man, an inventor, and--well, it was natural, was it not? they did not get on very well. Hedisliked the stage, but she had been on it before she married him, anddullness and want of money for her own needs and her child's had drivenher back. He had lived in Los Angeles for a time, but had recently goneEast to take a high-salaried position. It was with his consent that sheasked the nuns to take the child--possibly for two or three years. Whenshe was a famous actress and could leave the road, she would keep housefor her husband in New York, and make a home for the child. 

"The Mother Superior, by this time, had made up her mind that the fatherwished the child removed from the mother's influence, and although shetook the whole yarn with a bag of salt, the child was the most beautifulshe had ever seen, and obviously healthy and amiable. Moreover, theconvent was to receive two hundred dollars a month--"

"What?"

"Exactly. Can you beat it? The Mother Superior made up her mind it washer duty to bring up the little thing in the way it should go. As thewoman was leaving she said something about a possible reconciliation withher family, who lived in France; they had not written her since she wenton the stage. They were of a respectability!--of the old tradition! Butif they came round she might take the child to them, if her husband wouldconsent. She should like it to be brought up in France--

"Here the Mother Superior interrupted her sharply. Was her husband aFrenchman? And she answered, no doubt before she thought, for thesepeople always forget something, that no, he was an American--her family, also, detested Americans. The Mother Superior once more interrupted herglibness. How, then, did he have a French name? Oh, but that was herstage name--she always went by it and had given it without thinking. Whatwas her husband's name? After a second's hesitation she stupidly give thename Smith. I can see the mouth of the Mother Superior as it set in agrim line. 'Very well, ' said she, 'the child's name is Hélène Smith'; andalthough the woman made a wry face she was forced to submit. 

"The child remained there four years, and the Mother Superior had somereason to believe that 'Madame Dubois' spent a good part of that time inSan Francisco. She came at irregular intervals to see the child--alwaysin vacation, when there were no pupils in the convent, and always atnight. The Mother Superior, however, thought it best to make noinvestigations, for the child throve, they were all daffy about her, andthe money came promptly on the first of every month. When the mother cameshe always brought a trunk full of fine underclothes, and left the moneyfor a new uniform. Then, one day, Madame Dubois arrived in widow's weeds, said that her husband was dead, leaving her quite well off, and that shewas returning to France. "

"And Madame Delano's story is that he died on the way to Japan--if it isthe same woman--"

"Haven't a doubt of it myself. I did a little cabling before I left lastnight to a man I know in Paris to find out just when Madame Delanoreturned with her child to live with her family in Rouen. He got busy andhere is his answer--just fifteen years ago almost to the minute. "

"Then who was her husband?"

"There you've got me--so far. He was no 'scientist, who later accepteda high-salaried position. ' A decent chap of that sort would havewritten to his child, paid her board himself, most likely taken it awayfrom the mother--"

"But she may have kidnapped it--"

"People are too easy traced in this State--especially that sort. Nor doI believe she was an actress. There never was any actress of thatname--not so you'd notice it, anyhow, and that woman would have beenknown for her looks and height even if she couldn't act. Moreover, ifshe was an actress there would be no sense in giving the nuns a falsename, since she had admitted the fact. No, it's my guess that she wassomething worse. "

"Well, I've prepared myself for anything. "

"I figure out that she was the mistress of one of our rich highfliers, and that when he got tired of her he pensioned her off, and she made upher mind to reform on account of the kid, and went back to Rouen, andproceeded to identify herself with her class by growing old and shapelessas quickly as possible. She must have adopted the name Delano in New Yorkbefore she bought her steamer ticket, for although I've had a man on thehunt, the only Delanos of that time were eminently respectable--"

"Why are you sure she was not a--well--woman of the town?"

"Because, there again--there's no dame of that time either of that nameor looks--neither Dubois nor Delano. Of course, they come and go, butthere's every reason to think she stayed right on here in S. F. Ofcourse, I've only had twenty-four hours--I'll find out in anothertwenty-four just what conspicuous women of fifteen to twenty years agomeasure up to what she must have looked like--I got the Mother Superiorto describe her minutely: nearly six feet, clear dark skin with anatural red color--no make-up; very small features, but well made--noseand mouth I'm talking about. The eyes were a good size, very black withrather thin eyelashes. Lots of black hair. Stunning figure. Rather largeears and hands and feet. She always dressed in black, the handsomestsort. They generally do. "

"Well?" asked Ruyler through his teeth. He had no doubt the woman was hismother-in-law. "The Jameses? What of them?"

"That's the snag. Rest is easy in comparison. Innumerable Jameses musthave died about that time, to say nothing of all the way along the line, but while some of the records were saved in 1906, most went up in smoke. Moreover, there's just the chance that he didn't die here. But that'sgoing on the supposition that the man died when she left California, which don't fit our theory. I still think he died not so very long beforeher return to California, and that she probably came to collect a legacyhe had left her. Otherwise, I should think it's about the last place shewould have come to. I put a man on the job before I left of collectingthe Jameses who've died since the fire. Here they are. "

He took a list from his pocket and read:

"James Hogg, bookkeeper--races, of course. James Fowler, saloon-keeper. James Despard, called 'Frenchy, ' a clever crook who lived onblackmail--said to have a gift for getting hold of secrets of men andwomen in high society and squeezing them good and plenty--"

He paused. "Of course, that might be the man. There are points. I'll havehis life looked into, but somehow I don't believe it. I have a hunch theman was a higher-up. The sort of woman the Mother Superior described canget the best, and they take it. To proceed: James Dillingworth, lawyer, died in the odor of sanctity, but you never can tell; I'll have himinvestigated, too. James Maston--I haven't had time to have had theprivate lives of any of these men looked into, but I knew some of them, and Maston, who was a journalist, left a wife and three children and waslittle, if any, over thirty. James Cobham, broker--he was getting on tofifty, left about a million, came near being indicted during the GraftProsecutions, and although his wife has been in the newspapers as asociety leader for the last twenty years, and he was one of the foundersof Burlingame, and then was active in changing the name of the high partto Hillsboro when the swells felt they couldn't be identified with thevillage any longer, and he handed out wads the first of every year tocharity, there are stories that he came near being divorced by hishaughty wife about fifteen years ago. Of course, those men don't paradetheir mistresses openly like they did thirty years ago--I mean men withany social position to keep up. But now and again the wife finds a note, or receives an anonymous letter, and gets busy. Then it's the divorcecourt, unless he can smooth her down, and promises reform. Cobham seemsto me the likeliest man, and I'm going to start a thorough investigationto-morrow. These other Jameses don't hold out any promise atall--grocers, clerks, butchers. It's the list in hand I'll go by, and ifnothing pans out--well, we'll have to take the other cue she threw outand try Los Angeles. "

"Do you know anything about a man named Nicolas Doremus?" askedRuyler abruptly. 

"The society chap? Nothing much except that he don't do much business onthe street but is supposed to be pretty lucky at poker and bridge. But heruns with the crowd the police can't or don't raid. I've never seen orheard of him anywhere he shouldn't be except with swell slumming orroadhouse parties. He's never interested me. If Society can stand thatsort of bloodsucking tailor's model, I guess I can. Why do you ask? Gotanything to do with this case?"

"I have an idea he has found out the truth and is blackmailing my wife. You might watch him. "

"Good point. I will. And if he's found out the truth I guess I can. "

CHAPTER VII

I

Hélène, as Ruyler had anticipated, refused positively to accept Mrs. Thornton's invitation. 

"Do you think I'd leave you--to come home to a dreary house every night?Even if I don't see much of you, at least you know I'm there; and that ifyou have an evening off you have only to say the word and I'll break anyengagement--you have always known that!"

Ruyler had not, but she looked so eager and sweet--she was lunching withhim at the Palace Hotel on the day following his interview withSpaulding--that he hastened to assure her affectionately that thecertainty of his wife's desire for his constant companionship was bothhis torment and his consolation. 

Hélène continued radiantly:

"Besides, darling, Polly Roberts is staying on. Rex can't get away yet. "

"Polly Roberts is not nearly good enough for you. She hasn't an idea inher head and lives on excitement--"

Hélène laughed merrily. "You are quite right, but there's no harm in her. After all, unless one goes in for charities (and I can't, Price, yet;besides the charities here are wonderfully looked after), plays bridge, has babies, takes on suffrage--what is there to do but play? I supposeonce life was serious for young women of our class; but we just get intothe habit of doing nothing because there's nothing to do. Take to-morrowas an example: I suppose Polly and I will wander down to The Louvre inthe morning and buy something or look at the new gowns M. Dupont has justbrought from Paris. 

"Then we'll lunch where there's lots of life and everybody is chattinggayly about nothing. 

"Then we'll go to the Moving Pictures unless there is a matinée, and thenwe'll motor out to the Boulevard, and then back and have tea somewhere. 

"Or, perhaps, we'll motor down to the Club at Burlingame for lunch andchatter away the day on the veranda, or dance. This afternoon we'llprobably ring up a few that are still in town, and dance in Polly'sparlor at the Fairmont. "

Hélène's lip curled, her voice had risen. With, all her young enjoymentof wealth and position, she had been bred in a class where to idle is acrime. "Just putting in time--time that ought to be as precious asyouth and high spirits and ease and popularity! But what is one to do?I have no talents, and I'd lose caste in my set if I had. I don'twonder the Socialists hate us and want to put us all to work. No doubtwe should be much happier. But now--even if you retired from business, you'd spend most of your time on the links. We poor women wouldn't bemuch better off. "

"It does seem an abnormal state of affairs; I've barely given it athought, it has always been such a pleasure to find you, after a hardday's work, looking invariably dainty, and pretty, and eloquentlysuggestive of leisure and repose. But--to the student of history--Isuppose it is a condition that cannot last. There must be some sort ofupheaval due. Well, I hope it will give me more of your society. "

They smiled at each other across the little table in perfect confidence. They were lunching in the court, and after she had blown him a kiss overher glass of red wine, her eyes happened to travel in the direction ofthe large dining-room. She gave a little exclamation of distaste. 

"There is maman lunching with that hateful old Mr. Lawton. He was in hersitting-room when I ran in to call on her yesterday, and nearly snappedmy head off when I asked him if he wouldn't buy my electric for Aileen. He said it was time she began to learn a few economies instead of moreextravagances. Poor darling Aileen. She has to stay in town, too, for hewon't open the house in Atherton until he is ready to go down himselfevery night. "

"Is he an old friend of your mother's?"

"She and Papa met him when they were here, and Mrs. Lawton was very kindwhen I was born. It's too bad Mrs. Lawton's dead. She'd be a nice friendfor maman. "

"Perhaps your mother is asking Mr. Lawton's advice about the investmentof money. "

He had been observing his wife closely, but it was more and more apparentthat if Mr. Lawton held the key to her mother's past she had not beeninformed of the fact. She answered indifferently:

"Possibly. One can get much higher interest out here than in France, andmaman would never invest money without the best advice. She loves me, butmoney next. Oh, là! là!"

"Has she said anything more about going back to Rouen?"

"I didn't have a word with her alone yesterday, but I'll ask her to-day. Poor maman! I fancy the novelty has worn off here, and she would reallybe happier with her own people and customs. She hates traveling, like allthe French; but don't you think that, after a bit we shall be able to goover to Europe at least once a year?"

"I am sure of it. And while I am attending to business in London youcould visit your mother in Rouen. Tell her that one way or another I'llmanage it. "

And this seemed to him an ideal arrangement!

II

When they left the table and walked through the more luxurious part ofthe court, they saw Madame Delano alone and enthroned as usual in thelargest but most upright of the armchairs. And as ever she watched underher fat drooping eyelids the passing throng of smartly dressed women, hurrying men, sauntering, staring tourists. Here and there under thepalms sat small groups of men, leaning forward, talking in low earnesttones, their faces, whether of the keen, narrow, nervous, or of thefleshy, heavy, square-jawed, unimaginative, aggressive, ruthless type, equally expressing that intense concentration of mind which later wouldmake their luncheon a living torment. 

Hélène threw herself into a chair beside her mother and fondled her hand. Ruyler noted that after Madame Delano's surprised smile of welcome shedarted a keen glance of apprehension from one to the other, and her tightlittle mouth relaxed uncontrollably in its supporting walls of flesh. Butshe lowered her lids immediately and looked approvingly at her daughter, who in her new gown of gray, with gray hat and gloves and shoes, was adainty and refreshing picture of Spring. Then she looked at Ruyler withwhat he fancied was an expression of relief. 

"I wonder you do not do this oftener, " she said. 

"I never know until the last moment when or where I shall be able to takelunch, and then I often have to meet three or four men. Such is life inthe city of your adoption. "

"There is no city in the world where women are so abominably idle anduseless!" And at the moment, whatever Madame Delano may have been, hervoice and mien were those of a virtuous and outraged bourgeoisie. "Youare all very well, Ruyler, but if I had known what the life of a richyoung woman was in this town, I'd have married Hélène to a serious youngman of her own class in Rouen; a husband who would have given hercompanionship in a normal civilized life, who would have taken care ofher as every young wife should be taken care of, and who would haveinsisted upon at least two children as a matter of course. With us TheFamily is a religion. Here it is an incident where it is not anaccident. "

Ruyler, who was still standing, looked down at his mother-in-law withprofound interest. He had never heard her express herself at such lengthbefore. "Do you think I fail as a husband?" he asked humbly. "God knowsI'd like to give my wife about two-thirds of my time, but at least I haveperfect confidence in her. I should soon cease to care for a wife I wasobliged to watch. "

"Young things are young things. " Madame Delano looked at Hélène, who hadturned very white and had lowered her own lids to hide the consternationin her eyes. But as her mother ceased speaking she raised them in swiftappeal to Ruyler. 

"Maman says I coquette too much, " she said plaintively, and Pricewondered if a slight movement under the hem of Madame Delano's longskirts meant that the toe of a little gray shoe were boring into one ofthe massive plinths of his mother-in-law. "But tell him, maman, that youdon't really mean it. I can't have Price jealous. That would be toohumiliating. I'm afraid I do flirt as naturally as I breathe, but Priceknows I haven't a thought for a man on earth but him. " The color hadcrept back into her cheeks, but there was still anxiety in her soft blackeyes, and Price was sure that the little pointed toe once more made itsperemptory appeal. 

Madame Delano looked squarely at her son-in-law. 

"That's all right--so far, " she said grimly. "Hélène is devoted toyou. But so have many other young wives been to busy American husbands. Now, take my advice, and give her more of your companionship before itis too late. _Watch over her_. There always comes a time--aturning-point--European husbands understand, but American husbands arefools. Woman's loyalty, fed on hope only, turns to resentment; and thenher separate life begins. Now, I've warned you. Go back to your office, where, no doubt, your clerks are hanging out of the windows, wondering ifyou are dead and the business wrecked. I want to talk to Hélène. "

III

In spite of his wise old French mother-in-law's insinuations, Ruyler feltlighter of heart as he left the hotel and walked toward his office thanhe had since Sunday. Of two things he was certain: there was no uglyunderstanding between the mother and daughter over that unspeakable past, and Madame Delano's new attitude toward her daughter was merely theresult of an over-sophisticated mother's apprehensions: those of a womanwho was looking in upon smart society for the first time and found italarming, and--unwelcome, but inevitable thought--peculiarly dangerous toa young and beautiful creature with wild and lawless blood in her veins. 

However, it was patent that so far her apprehensions were merely theresult of a rare imaginative flight, the result, no doubt, of her ownthreatened exposure. Once more he admired her courage in returning to SanFrancisco, and as he recalled the covert air of cynical triumph, withwhich she had accepted his offer for her daughter's hand, he made nodoubt that one object had been to play a sardonic joke on the city shemust hate. 

He renewed his determination to keep what guard he could over his youngwife, and wondered if his brother Harold, who also had elected to enterthe old firm, could not be induced to come out and take over a certainshare of the responsibility. The young man had paid him a visit a yearago and been enraptured with life in California. 

True, he was accustomed to make quick decisions without consulting anyone, and he should find a partner irksome, but he was beginning torealize acutely that business, even to an American brain, packed with itstraditions and energies, was not even the half of life, should be a meansnot an end; he set his teeth as he walked rapidly along Montgomery Streetand vowed that he would keep his domestic happiness if he had to retireon what was available of his own fortune. He even wondered if it wouldnot be wise to buy a fruit ranch, where he and Hélène could share equallyin the management, and begin at once to raise a family. They both lovedoutdoor life, and this life of complete frivolity, in which she seemed tobe hopelessly enmeshed, might before long corrode her nature and blastthe mental aspirations that still survived in that untended soil. Whenthis great merging deal was over he should be free to decide. 

CHAPTER VIII

I

He arrived at home on the following afternoon at six and wasimmediately rung up by Spaulding, who demanded an interview. It was notworth while going down town again, as Hélène was out and would no doubtreturn only in time to dress for dinner. They were to dine at half-pastseven and go to the play afterward. He told Spaulding to take a taxiand come to the house. 

Nothing had occurred meanwhile to cause him anxiety. He had taken Hélèneout to the Cliff House to dinner the night before, and afterward to seethe road-houses, whose dancing is so painfully proper early in theevening. Polly Roberts had come into the most notorious of them ateleven, chaperoning a party, which included Aileen Lawton, a girl asrestless and avid of excitement as herself. Rex Roberts and several otheryoung men had been in attendance, and Polly had begged Ruyler to stay onand let his wife see something of "real life. "

"This is one of the sights of the world, you know, " she said, puffing hercigarette smoke into his face. "It's _too_ middle-class to be shocked, and not to see occasionally what you really cannot get anywhere else. Why, there'll even be a lot of tourists here later on, and these dancersdon't do the real Apache until about one. At least leave Hélène with me, if you care more for bed than fun. "

But Ruyler had merely laughed and taken his wife home. Hélène had madeno protest; on the contrary had put her arm through his in the car andher head on his shoulder, vowing she was worn out, and glad to go home. It was only afterward that it occurred to him that she had clung to himthat night. 

Spaulding entered the library without taking off his hat, and chewing atoothpick vigorously. He began to talk at once, stretching himself out ina Morris chair, and accepting a cigar. This time Price smoked with him. 

"Well, " said the detective, "it's like the game of button, button, who'sgot the button? Sometimes I think I'm getting a little warmer and then Igo stone cold. But I've found out a few things, anyhow. How tall shouldyou say Madame Delano is? I've only seen her sitting on her throne therein the Palace Court lookin' like an old Sphinx that's havin' a laugh allto herself. "

"About five feet ten. "

"The Mother Superior said six feet, but no doubt when she had figgerinstead of flesh she looked taller. Well, I've discovered no less thanfive tall handsome brunettes that sparkled here in the late Eighties andearly Nineties, but it's the deuce and all to get an exact descriptionout of anybody, especially when quite a few years have elapsed. Mostpeople don't see details, only effects. That's what we detectives come upagainst all the time. So, whether these ladies were five feet eight, fivefeet ten, or six feet, whether they had large features or small, bighands and feet or fine points, or whether they added on all the inchesthey yearned for by means of high heels or style, is beyond me. But herethey are. "

He took his neat little note-book from his pocket and was about to readit, when Ruyler interrupted him. 

"But surely you know whether these women were French or not?"

"Aw, that's just what you can't always find out. Lots of 'em pretend tobe, and others--if they come from good stock in the old country--want youto forget it. But the queens generally run to French names, as havin' abetter commercial value than Mary Jane or Ann Maria. One of these wasMarie Garnett, who wasn't much on her own but spun the wheel in Jim'sjoint down on Barbary Coast, which was raided just so often for form'ssake. She always made a quick getaway, was never up in court, and diedyoung. Gabrielle ran an establishment down on Geary Street and was one ofthe swellest lookers and swellest togged dames in her profession till thedrink got her. I can't find that she ever hooked up to a James or any oneelse. Pauline-Marie was another razzle-dazzle who swooped out here fromnowhere and burrowed into quite a few fortunes and put quite a few of oursociety leaders into mourning. She disappeared and I can't trace her, butshe seems to have been the handsomest of the bunch, and was fond ofshowing herself at first nights, dressed straight from Paris, until someof our war-hardened 'leaders' called upon the managers in a body andthreatened never to set foot inside their doors again unless she was keptout, and the managers succumbed. Then there was the friend of a richEnglishman, whose first name I haven't been able to get hold of. Theylived first at Santa Barbara, then loafed up and down the coast for ayear or two, spending quite a time in San Francisco. She was 'foreignlooking' and a stunner, all right. All of these dames drifted out aboutthe same time--"

"What was the Englishman's name?"

"J. Horace Medford. Front name may or may not have been James. I doubt ifhis name could be found on any deeds, even in the south, where there wasno fire. He doesn't seem to have bought any property or transacted anybusiness. Just lived on a good-sized income. Of course, all the hotelregisters here were burnt, but I wired to Santa Barbara and Monterey andgot what I have given you. 

"He had a yacht, and he took the woman with him everywhere. There wasalways a flutter when they appeared at the theater. Of course she went byhis name, but as he never presented a letter all the time he was here andit was quite obvious he could have brought all he wanted, and as men arealways 'on' anyhow, there was but one conclusion. "

"Where did he bank? They might have his full name. "

"Bank of California, but his remittances were sent to order of J. HoraceMedford, and, of course, he signed his cheques the same way. "

"That sounds the most likely of the lot--and the most hopeful. "

"Well, haven't handed you the fifth yet, and to my mind she's the mostlikely of all. Ever hear of James Lawton's trouble with his wife?"

"Trouble? I thought she died. "

"She--did--not. She went East suddenly about fifteen years ago, and soonafter a notice of her death appeared in the San Francisco papers. Butthere was a tale of woe (for old Lawton) that I doubt if most of her owncrowd had even a suspicion of. "

"Good heavens!" Ruyler recalled the apparent intimacy of hismother-in-law and the senior member of the respectable firm of Lawton andCross. If "Madame Delano" were the former Mrs. Lawton, how many thingswould be explained. 

"This woman's name was Marie all right, and she was French, although sheseems to have been adopted by some people named Dubois and brought up inCalifornia. She was quite the proper thing in high society, but thetrouble was that she liked another sort better. She was a regularfly-by-night. It began when Norton Moore, a rotten limb of one of thegrandest trees in San Francisco Society--so respectable they didn't knowthere was any side to life but their own--sneaked Mrs. Lawton and threegirls out of his mother's house one night when she was givin' a ball, put'em in a hack and took 'em down to Gabrielle's. There they spent an hourlookin' at Gabrielle's swell bunch dressed up and doin' the grand societyact with some of the men-about-town. Then they danced some and opened abottle or two. 

"I never heard that this little jaunt hurt the girls any, but it woke upsomething in Mrs. Lawton. After that--well, there are stories withoutend. Won't take up your time tellin' them. The upshot was that one nightLawton, who took a fling himself once in a while, met her at Gabrielle'sor some other joint, and she went East a day or two after. I suppose hedidn't get a divorce, partly on account of the kid--Aileen--partlybecause he had no intention of trying his luck again. "

"But is there any evidence that she had another child--that shehid away?"

"No, but it might easy have been. This life went on for about eightyears, and it was at least five that she and Lawton merely lived underthe same roof for the sake of Aileen. They never did get on. That much, at least, was well known. It might easy be--"

Ruyler made a rapid calculation. Aileen Lawton was just about three yearsolder than Hélène. She was fair like her father. There was no resemblancebetween her and his wife, but the intimacy between them had beenspontaneous and had never lapsed. She had grown up quite unrestrained andspoilt, and broken three engagements, and was always rushing aboutproclaiming in one breath, that California was the greatest place onearth and in the next that she should go mad if she didn't get out andhave a change. Another grievance was that although her father let herhave her own way, or rather did not pretend to control her, he gave her arather niggardly allowance for her personal expenses and she was supposedto be heavily in debt. Ruyler thought he could guess where a good deal ofhis wife's spare cash had gone to. He disliked Aileen Lawton as much ashe did Polly Roberts; more, if anything, because she might have beenclever and she chose to be a fool. Both of these intimate friends of hiswife were the reverse of the superb outdoor type he admired. 

"Good Lord!" he said. "I don't think there's much choice. "

But in a moment he shook his head. "Too many things don't connect. Wheredid she get the money to go to her relations in Rouen--"

"He pensioned her off, of course. "

"And the child? How did he consent to let her return here with a daughterhe probably never had heard of--"

"I figger out, either that she came into some money from a relation overin France, or else she has something on the old boy, and wanting to comeback here and marry her daughter, she held him up. He's a pillar of thechurch, been one of the Presidents of the Pacific-Union Club, has arguedcases before the Supreme Court that have been cabled all over thecountry. When a man of that sort gets to Lawton's time of life he don'twant any scandals. "

"All the same, " said Ruyler positively, "I don't believe it. I think itfar more likely that he was a friend of Madame Delano's husband--assumingthat she had one--and that some money was left with him in trust for heror the child. "

"Well, it may be, but I incline to Lawton--"

"There's one person would know--"

"'Gene Bisbee. But I never went to that bunch yet for any information, and I don't go this time except as a last resort. Of course he knows, andthat is one reason I believe she is Mrs. Lawton. He was Gabrielle'smaquereau for years--when he'd wrung enough out of her he set up forhimself--Well, I ain't through yet, by a long sight. Beliefs ain'tproof. " He rose slowly from the deep chair, stretched himself, andsettled his hat firmly on his head. 

"What's this I hear about a wonderful ruby your wife wore up to Gwynne'sthe other night? Gosh! I'd like to see a sparkler like that. "

"Why, by all means. "

Ruyler swung the bookcase outward, opened the safe and handed him theruby. Spaulding regarded it with bulging eyes, and touched it with hisfinger tips much as he would a newborn babe. "Some stone!" he said, as hehanded it back, "but why in thunder don't you keep it in a safe depositbox? There are crooks that can crack any safe, and if they got wise tothis--oh, howdy, ma'am--"

Hélène had come in and stood behind the two men. 

Spaulding snatched off his hat and she acknowledged her husband'sintroduction graciously. She was dressed for the evening in white. Hereyes looked abnormally large, and she kept dropping her lids as if tokeep them from setting in a stare. Her lovely mouth with its soft curveswas faded and set. The whole face was almost as stiff as a mask, and evenher graceful body was rigid. Ruyler saw Spaulding give her a sharp"sizing-up" look, as he murmured, "Well, so long, Guv. See you to-morrow. Hope the man'll turn out allright after all. "

"I hope so. He's a good chap otherwise. "

"Good night, ma'am. Tell your husband to put that ruby in a safedeposit box. "

"Oh, nobody knows the safe is there except Mr. Ruyler and myself--"

"There have been safes hidden behind bookcases before, " said Spauldingdryly. "And crooks, like all the other pests of the earth, just driftnaturally to this coast. If I were you I'd have a detective on handwhenever you wear that bit o' glass--not at a friendly affair like theGwynnes' dinner, of course, but--"

"Good idea!" exclaimed Ruyler. "My wife will wear the ruby to theThornton fête on the fourteenth. Will you be on hand to guard it?"

"Won't I? About half our force is engaged for that blow-out, but no onebut yours truly shall be guardian angel for the ruby. Well, good nightonce more, and good luck. "

 * * * * *

As soon as the detective had gone Ruyler drew his wife to him anxiously, "What is it, Hélène? You look--well, you don't look yourself!"

"I have a headache, " she said irritably. "Perhaps I'm developing nerves. I do wish you would take me to New York. Other women get away from thistown once in a while. "

"But you told me on Sunday that you adored California, that it was likefairy land--"

"Oh, all the women out here bluff themselves and everybody else justso long and then suddenly go to pieces. It's a wonderful state, butwhat a life! What a life! Surely I was made for something better. Idon't wonder--"

"What?" he asked sharply. 

"Oh, nothing. I feel ungrateful, of course. I really should be quitehappy. Think if I had to go back to Rouen to live--after this taste offreedom, and beauty--for California has all the beauties of youth as wellas its idiocies and vices--"

"There is not the remotest danger of your ever being obliged to live inRouen again--"

"Oh, I don't know. You might get tired of me. We might fight like cat anddog for want of common interests, of something to talk about. You wouldnever take to drink like so many of the men, but I might--well, I'm gladdinner is ready at last. "

But she played with her food. That she was repressing an intense andmounting excitement Ruyler did not doubt, and he also suspected that shewished to broach some particular subject from which she turned in panic. They were alone after coffee had been served, and he said abruptly:

"What is it, Hélène? Do you want money? I have an idea that Polly Robertsand Aileen Lawton borrow heavily from you, and that they may have cleanedyou out completely on the first--"

"How dear of you to guess--or rather to get so close. It's worse thanthat. I--that is--well--poor Polly went quite mad over a pearl necklaceat Shreve's and they told her to take it and wear it for a few days, thinking, I suppose, she would never give it up and would get the moneysomehow. She--oh, it's too dreadful--she lost it--and she dares not tellRex--he's lost quite a lot of money lately--and she's mad withfright--and I told her--"

"Where did she lose it? It's not easy to lose a necklace, especially whenthe clasp is new. "

"She thinks it was stolen from her neck at the theater--you heard whatthat man said. "

"Ah! What was the price of the necklace?"

"Twenty thousand dollars. The pearls weren't so very large, of course, but Polly never had had a pearl necklace--"

"I'll let her have the money to pay for it on one condition--that it is atransaction, between Roberts and myself--"

"No! No! Not for anything!"

"I've lent him money before--"

"But he'd never forgive Polly. He--he's one of those men who make anawful fuss on the first of every month when his wife's bills come in. "

"There must be a bass chorus on the first of every month in SanFrancisco--"

"Oh, please don't jest. She must have this money. "

"She may have it--on those terms. I'll have no business dealings withwomen of the Polly Roberts sort. That would be the last I'd ever see ofthe twenty thousand--"

"I never thought you were stingy!"

Ruyler, in spite of his tearing anxiety, laughed outright. "Is that youridea of how the indulgent American husband becomes rich?"

"Oh--of course I wouldn't have you lose such a sum. I really have learnedthe value of money in the abstract, although I can't care for it as muchas men do. "

"I have no great love of money, but there is a certain difference betweena miser and a levelheaded business man--"

"Price, I must have that money. Polly--oh, I am afraid she willkill herself!"

"Not she. A more selfish little beast never breathed. She'll squeeze themoney out of some one, never fear! But I think I'll lock up your jewelsin case you are tempted to raise money on them for her--Darling!"

Hélène, without a sound, had fainted. 

CHAPTER IX

They had intended to go to the theater but Ruyler put her to bed atonce. He offered to read to her, but she turned her back on him withcold disdain, and he went to the little invisible cupboard where shekept her own jewels and took out the heavy gold box which had been thewedding present of one of his California business friends who owned aquartz mine. 

"I shall put this in the safe, " he said incisively, "for, while I admireyour stanchness in friendship, even for such an unworthy object as PollyRoberts, I do not propose that my wife shall be selling or pawning herjewels for any reason whatever. Think over the proposal I madedownstairs. If Polly is willing I'll lend Roberts the money to-morrow. "

She had thrown an arm over her face and she made no reply. He went downstairs and put the box in the safe. It occurred to him that she hadwatched him open and close the safe several times but she certainly neverhad written the combination down, and it had taken him a long while tocommit it to memory himself. 

He had glanced over the contents of the box before he locked it in. Thejewels were all there, the string of pearls that he had given her ontheir marriage day, a few wedding presents, and several rings andtrinkets he had bought for her since. The value was perhaps twentythousand dollars, for he had told her that she must wait several yearsbefore he could give her the jewels of a great lady. When she was thirty, and really needed them to make up for fading charms--it had been one oftheir pleasant little jokes. 

As Ruyler set the combination he sighed and wondered whether their daysof joking were over. Their life had suddenly shot out of focus and itwould require all his ingenuity and patience, aided by friendlycircumstance, to swing it into line again. He did not believe a word ofthe necklace story. Somebody was blackmailing the poor child. If he couldonly find out who! He made up his mind suddenly to put this problem alsoin the hands of Spaulding for solution. The question of hismother-in-law's antecedents was important enough, but that of his wife'shappiness and his own was paramount. 

He decided to go to the theater himself, for he was in no condition forsleep or the society of men at the club, nor could any book hold hisattention. He prayed that the play would be reasonably diverting. 

He walked down town and as he entered the lobby of the Columbia at theclose of the first act he saw 'Gene Bisbee and D. V. Bimmer, who was nowmanaging a hotel in San Francisco, standing together. He also saw Bisbeenudge Bimmer, and they both stared at him openly, the famous hotel manwith some sympathy in his wise secretive eyes, the reformed peer of theunderworld with a certain speculative contempt. 

Ruyler, to his intense irritation, felt himself flushing, and wondered ifthe man's regard might be translated: "Just how much shall I be able totouch him for?" He wished he would show his hand and dissipate thedamnable web of mystery which Fate seemed weaving hourly out of herbloated pouch, but he doubted if Bisbee, or whoever it was that tormentedhis wife, would approach him save as a last resource. They were cleverenough to know that her keenest desire would be to keep the disgracefulpast from the knowledge of her husband, rather than from a societyseasoned these many years to erubescent pasts. 

Moreover it is always easier to blackmail a woman than a man, and PriceRuyler could not have looked an easy mark to the most optimistic ofsocial brigands. 

He found it impossible to fix his mind on the play; the cues of the firstact eluded him, and the characters and dialogue were too commonplace tomake the story negligible. 

At the end of the second act Ruyler made up his mind to go home and tryto coax his wife back into her customary good temper, pet her and makeher forget her little tragedy. He still hesitated to broach the subjectto her directly, but it was possible that by some diplomaticallyanalogous tale he could surprise her into telling him the truth. 

During the long drive he turned over in his mind the data Spaulding hadplaced before him during the afternoon. He rejected the theory thatMadame Delano was Mrs. Lawton as utterly fantastic, but admitted aconnection. Hélène had spoken more than once of Mrs. Lawton's kindness to"maman" when her baby was born during her "enforced stay in SanFrancisco, " and it was quite possible that the two had been friends, andthat the young mother had adopted the name of Dubois when calling uponthe nuns of the convent at St. Peter, either because it would naturallyoccur to her, or from some deeper design which, he could not fathom. .. . 

Yes, the connection with Mrs. Lawton was indisputable and it remained forhim to "figger out" as Spaulding would say, which of these women, thegambler's wife, the notorious "Madam, " Gabrielle, the briefly coruscatingPauline Marie, or the Englishman's mistress, a woman of Mrs. Lawton'sposition would be most likely to befriend. 

The first three might be dismissed without argument. She had been nofrequenter of "gambling joints" whatever her peccadilloes; Gabrielle, he happened to know, had died some eight or ten years ago, andMademoiselle Pauline Marie, if she had had a child, which was extremelydoubtful, was the sort that sends unwelcome offspring post haste to thefoundling asylum. 

There remained only the spurious Mrs. Medford, and she was theprobability on all counts. What more likely than that she and Mrs. Lawtonhad met at one of the great winter hotels in Southern California, andforegathered? Certainly they would be congenial spirits. 

When the baby came Mrs. Lawton would naturally see her through hertrouble, and advise her later what to do with the child. No doubt, Medford found it in the way. 

After that Ruyler could only fumble. Did Medford desert the woman, driving her on the stage?--or elsewhere? Did they start for Japan, anddid he die on the voyage? Did he merely give the woman a pension and tellher to go back to Rouen, or to the devil? It was positive that whenHélène was five years old Madame Delano had gone back to her relativeswith some trumped up story and been received by them. 

Moreover, this theory coincided with, his belief that Hélène's fatherwas a gentleman. No doubt he had been already married when he met theyoung French girl, superbly handsome, and intelligent--possibly at oneof the French watering places, even in Rouen itself, swarming withtourists in Summer. They might have met in the spacious aisles of theCathedral, she risen from her prayers, he wandering about, Baedeker inhand, and fallen in love at sight. One of Earth's million romances, regenerating the aged planet for a moment, only to sink back anddisappear into her forgotten dust. 

His own romance? What was to be the end of that!

But he returned to his argument. He wanted a coherent story to tell hiswife, and he wanted also to believe that his wife's father had been agentleman. 

Medford, like so many of his eloping kind, had made instinctively forCalifornia with the beautiful woman he loved but could not marry. SantaBarbara, Ruyler had heard, had been the favorite haven for twogenerations of couples fleeing from irking bonds in the societies ofEngland and the continent of Europe. Southern California combined a wildindependence with a languor that blunted too sensitive nerves, offered anequable climate with months on end of out of door life, boating, shooting, riding, driving, motoring, romantic excursions, and even sportif a distinguished looking couple played the game well and told aplausible story. 

Breeding was a part of Ruyler's religion, as component in his code ashonor, patriotism, loyalty, or the obligation of the strong to protectthe weak. Far better the bend sinister in his own class than a legitimateparent of the type of 'Gene Bisbee or D. V. Bimmer. Ruyler was a "goodmixer" when business required that particular form of diplomacy, and thefamiliarities of Jake Spaulding left his nerves unscathed, but in boneand brain cells he was of the intensely respectable aristocracy ofManhattan Island and he never forgot it. He had surrendered to a girl ofno position without a struggle, and made her his wife, but it is doubtfulif he would even have fallen in love with her if she had been underbredin appearance or manner. He had never regretted his marriage for amoment, not even since this avalanche of mystery and portending scandalhad descended upon him; if possible he loved his troubled young wife morethan ever--with a sudden instinct that worse was to come he vowed thatnothing should ever make him love her less. 

When he arrived at his house he found two notes on the hall tableaddressed to himself. The first was from Hélène and read:

"Polly telephoned that she would send her car for me to go down to theFairmont and dance. I cannot sleep so I am going. _She cannot sleepeither_! Forgive me if I was cross, but I am terribly worried for her. Don't wait up for me. Hélène. "

He read this note with a frown but without surprise. It was to beexpected that she would seek excitement until her present fears wereallayed and her persecutors silenced. 

He determined to order Spaulding to have her shadowed constantly for atleast a fortnight and note made of every person in whose company sheappeared to be at all uneasy, whether they were of her own set or not. Itwould also be worth while to have Madame Delano's rooms watched, for itwas possible that she would summon Hélène there to meet Bisbee or othersof his ilk. 

Then he picked up the other note. It was from Spaulding, and as he readit all his finespun theories vanished and once more he was adrift on anuncharted sea without a landmark in sight. 

"Dear Sir, " began the detective, who was always formal on paper. "I'vejust got the information required from Holbrook Centre. We didn't halfbelieve there was such a place, if you remember? Well there is, andaccording to the parish register Marie Jeanne Perrin was married to JamesDelano on July 25th, 1891. She was there, visiting some Frenchrelations--they went back soon after--and he had left there when he wasabout sixteen and had only come back that once to see his mother, who wasdying. Nothing seems to have been known about him in his home town excepta sort of rumor that he was a bad lot and lived somewheres in California. Can you beat it? But don't think I'm stumped. I'm working on a new lineand I'm not going to say another word until I've got somewheres. 

"Yours truly, "J. SPAULDING. "

"Delano's father was a Forty-niner, and lived in California till 1860, when he went home to H. C. And died soon after. There were wild storiesabout him, too. "

CHAPTER X

I

During the next few days Ruyler saw little of his wife. He was obliged totake two business trips out of town and as he could not return until teno'clock at night he advised her to have company to dinner and take herguests to the play. But she preferred to dine with Polly Roberts andAileen Lawton, and she spent her days for the most part at Burlingame, motoring down with one or more of her friends, or sent for by someenthusiastic girl admirer already established there for the summer. 

Ruyler was quite willing to forego temporarily his plan of personalguardianship, as the more she roamed abroad unattended the better couldSpaulding watch her associates. The detective had his agents in society, as well as in the Palace Hotel, and on the third day he sent a brief noteto Ruyler announcing that he had "lit on to something" that would makehis employer's "hair curl, but no more at present from yours truly. "

"This time, " he added, "I'm on the right track and know it. No more fancytheories. But I won't say a word till I can deliver the goods. Give yourwife all the rope you can. "

Price and Hélène met briefly and amiably and she did not again broach thesubject of the loan for her friend, nor did she ask for her jewels. Itwas apparent that she was proudly determined to conceal whatever terrorsor even worries that might haunt her, but the effort deprived her of allher native vivacity; she was almost formal in manner and her white facegrew more like a classic mask daily. 

On the evening before the Thornton fête, however, Price was able to dineat home. They met at table and he saw at once that she either hadrecovered her spirits or was making a deliberate attempt to create theimpression of a carefree young woman happy in a tête-à-tête dinner with abusy husband. 

Her talk for the most part was of the great entertainment at San Mateo. The weather promised to be simply magnificent. Wasn't that exactly likeFlora Thornton's luck? The immense grounds were simply swarming withworkmen; wagon-loads of all sorts of things went through the gates afterevery train--simply one procession after another; but no one else couldso much as get her nose through those gates. 

Hélène, with all her old childish glee, related how she and Aileen, Polly(who apparently had forgotten her impending doom), and two or three othergirls, had called up Mrs. Thornton on the telephone every ten minutes foran hour--pretending it was long distance to make sure of a personalresponse--and begged to be allowed to go over and see the preparations, until finally, in a towering rage, her ladyship had replied that if theycalled her again she would withdraw her invitations. 

"How we did long for an airship. It would have been such fun, for shedoes so disapprove of all of us; thinks us a little flock of silly geese. Well, we are, I guess, but wasn't she one herself once? She has a prettyhard time even now making life interesting for herself--out here, anyhow. 

"Yesterday we motored down to Menlo and dropped in at the Maynards. Therewere a lot of the props of San Francisco society, all as rich as croesus, sitting on the veranda crocheting socks or sacks for a crop of new babiesthat are due. One or two were hemstitching lawn, or embroidering amonogram, or something else equally useless or virtuous. They weretalking mild gossip, and didn't even have powder on. It was ghastly--"

"Hélène, " said Ruyler abruptly, "what do you think is the secret ofhappiness--I mean, of course, the enduring sort--perhaps content would bethe better word. Happiness is too dependent upon love, and love was nevermeant for daily food. You are not by nature frivolous, and you arecapable of thought. Have you ever given any to the secret of content?"

"Yes, work, " she answered promptly. "Everybody should have his daily job, prescribed either by the state or by necessity; but something he must doif both he and society would continue to exist. "

Ruyler elevated his eyebrows and looked at her curiously. "Socialism. Ididn't know you had ever heard of it. "

"Aileen and I are not such fools as we look--as you were good enough tointimate just now. We went to a series of lectures early last winter overat the University, on Socialism--a lot of us formed a class, but allexcept Aileen and I dropped out. 

"We continued to read for a time after the lectures were over, but ofcourse that didn't last. One drops everything for want of stimulus, andwhen one begins to flutter again one is lost. 

"But I heard and read and thought enough to deduce that the only vitalinterest in life after one's secret happiness--which one would not darespread out too thin if one could in this American life--is necessary workwell done. And that is quite different from those fussy interests andfads we create or take up for the sake of thinking we are busy andinterested. 

"Polly's mother once told me she never was so happy in her life as duringthose weeks after the earthquake and fire when all the servants had runaway and she had to cook for the family out in the street on a stove theybought down in a little shop in Polk Street and set up and surrounded onthree sides by 'inside blinds. ' She happened to have a talent forcooking, and without her the family would have starved. Polly tied atowel round her head and did the housework, or stood in a line and gotthe daily rations from the Government. She never thought once of--"

"Of what?"

"Oh, of doing anything rather than expire of boredom. She and Rex hadbeen married a year and were living at home. Rex and Mr. Carter helpedexcavate down in the business district, as the working class wouldn'tlift a finger as long as the Government was feeding them. "

"There you are! Their ideal is complete leisure, and that of our delicateproducts of the highest civilization--compulsory jobs! What does progressmean but the leisure to enjoy the arts and all the finer fruits ofprogress? What else do we men really work for?"

"Progress has gone too far and defeated its own ends. Every healthy humanbeing should be forced to work six hours a day. 

"That would leave eight for sleep and ten for enjoyment of the arts andluxuries. Then we really should enjoy them, and if we couldn't have themunless we did our six hours' stint, ennui and the dissipations that itbreeds would be unknown. 

"I can tell you it is demoralizing, disintegrating, to wake up morningafter morning--about ten o'clock!--and know that you have nothing worthwhile to do for another day--for all the days!--that you have no place inthe world except as an ornament! Women of limited incomes and a family ofgrowing children have enough, to do, of course--too much--they never canfeel superfluous and demoralized--except by envy--but as for us! Why, Ican tell you, it is a marvel we don't all go straight to the devil. "

They were alone with the coffee, and she was pounding the table with herlittle fist. Her cheeks were deeply flushed and her black somber eyeswere opening and closing rapidly, as if alternately magnetized by someugly vision and sweeping it aside. 

Price watched her with deep interest and deeper anxiety. "A good manywomen go to the devil, " he said. "But you are not that sort. "

"Oh, I don't know. I never could get up enough interest in another man tosolve the problem in the usual way--but there are otherresources--I--well--"

"What?" Price sat up very straight. 

"Oh, dance ourselves into tuberculosis, " she said lightly, and droppingher eyelashes. "And tuberculosis of the mind, certainly. On the whole, Ithink I prefer physical to spiritual death. .. . 

"However--I found out one thing to-day. The dancing is to be out ofdoors. There will be an immense arbor or something of the sort erectedon the lawn above the sunken garden. My gown is a dream and I shall wearthe ruby. "

"Yes, " he said smiling. "You shall wear the ruby. But you must expect meto keep very close to you--"

"The closer the better. " She smiled charmingly. "Have you tried onyour costume?"

"I haven't even looked at it. Who am I?"

"Caesar Borgia. You are not much like him yourself, darling, but Ithought he was not so very unlike modern American business, as a whole. "

Ruyler laughed. "Why not Machiavelli? But as no doubt it is black velvet, much puffed and slashed, I may hope it will be becoming to my nondescriptfairness. You must promise not to wander off for long walks with any ofyour admirers. Not that I fear the admirers, but the thieves that arebound to get into that crowd one way or another. They have a way ofunclasping necklaces even of the most circumspect wives in the company ofnot too absorbing men. "

Her eyes opened and flashed, but he had no time to analyze that fleetingexpression before she was promising volubly not to wander from theilluminated spaces. 

 * * * * *

He interrupted her suddenly. They were in the library now, and sat downon a little sofa in front of the window. The moon was high and brilliantand the great expanse of water with the high clusters of lights on theislands, the sharp hard silhouette of the encircling mountains, the greenand silver stars so high above, the moving golden dots of an incomingliner from Japan, the long rows of arc lights along the shore, made alandscape of the night that Mrs. Thornton with all her millions hardlycould rival. 

"Are you not grateful for this?" he asked whimsically and a littlewistfully. 

"Oh, Price, dear, I am more grateful than you will ever know. I have nota fault on earth to find with you. You would be the prince of the fairytale if you were not so busy. 

"But that is the tragedy. You are busy--I am not. "

"Well, let us have the personal solution--one that fits ourselves. Youhave time to think it out. I, alas! have not. " He took her hand andfondled it, hoping for her confidence. 

"I don't know. " She had a deep rich voice and she could make it veryintense. "I only know there must--must--be a change--if--if--I amto--Can't you take me abroad for a year? That might not be work, but atleast I should be learning some thing--I have traveled almost not atall--and, at least, I should have you. "

"But later? Most of your friends have spent a good deal of time inEurope. I doubt if any state in the Union goes to Europe as often asCalifornia! They are all the more discontented when they come back hereto vegetate--as Mrs. Thornton would express it. 

"It would be a blessed interval, but no more. "

"We should have time to think out a new and different life. .. . 

"You know--in the class I come from--in France--the women are thepartners of their husbands. Even in the higher bourgeoisie, that is, where they still are in business, not living on great inheritedfortunes--

"My uncle had a small silk house in Rouen, and my aunt kept the booksand attended to all the correspondence. He always said she was thecleverer business man of the two; but French women have a real geniusfor business. Some of our great ladies help their husbands managetheir estates. 

"It is only the few that live for pleasure and glitter in the mostglittering city in the world that have furnished the novelists thematerial to give the world a false impression of France. 

"The majority live such sober, useful, busy lives that only the highestgenius could make people read about them. 

"Of course, young girls dream of something far more brilliant, and waiteagerly for the husband who shall deliver them from their narrowrestricted little spheres. .. Perhaps take them to the great world ofParis; but they settle down, even in Paris, and devote themselves totheir husbands' interests, which are their own, and to their children. .. . 

"That is it! They are indispensable--not as women, but as partners. Ibarely know what your business is about--only that you are in sometremendous wholesale commission thing with tentacles that reach halfround the world. 

"Only the wives of politicians are any real help to their husbands inthis country. Isabel Gwynne! What a help she will be--has been--to Mr. Gwynne. But then she was always busy. When her uncle died he left herthat little ranch and scarcely anything else, she took to raisingchickens--not to fuss about and fill in her time, but to keep a roof overher head and have enough to eat and wear. I doubt if she ever was boredin her life. "

"I can't take you into the business, sweetheart, " said Ruyler slowly. "For that would violate the traditions of a very old conservative house. But I can quite see that something must be done. .. . 

"I married you to make you happy and to be happy myself. I do not intendthat our marriage shall be a failure. It is possible that Harold wouldconsent to come out here and take my place. The business no longerrequires any great amount of initiative, but the most unremittingvigilance. I have thought--it has merely passed through my mind--but youmight hate it--how would you like it if I bought a large fruit ranch, several thousand acres, and put up a canning factory besides? I wouldmake you a full partner and you would have to give to your share of thework considerably more than six hours of the day--

"We could build a large, plain, comfortable house, take all our books andpictures, subscribe to all the newspapers, magazines and reviews, keep upwith everything that is going on in the world, have house parties once ina while, come to town for a few weeks in summer for the plays. 

"We should live practically an out-of-door life--if you preferred wecould buy a cattle ranch in the south. That would mean the greater partof the day in the saddle--

"How does it appeal to you?"

He had turned off the electricity, but as he fumbled with hisembryonic idea he saw her eyes sparkle and a light of passionate hopedawn on her face. 

"Oh, I should love it! But love it! Especially the fruit ranch. Thatwould be like France--our orchards are as wonderful as yours, even ifnothing could be as big as a California ranch--

"That is, if it would not be a makeshift. Another form of playing atlife. "

"I can assure you that we will have to make it pay or go to the wall. Myfather would probably disinherit me, for it would be breaking anothertradition, and he compliments me by believing that I am the best businessman in the firm at present. 

"My only capital would be such of my fortune as is not tied up in theHouse--about a hundred thousand dollars in Government bonds. Of course, in time, if all goes well, and California does not have anothersetback--if business improves all over the world--I shall be able to takethe rest of my money out, that I put into this end of the business afterthe fire; but that may be ten years hence. I shouldn't even ask forinterest on it--that would be the only compensation I could offer fordeserting the firm. 

"Perhaps I had better buy a cattle ranch. Then, if we fail, I shall atleast have had the training of a cowboy and can hire out. "

Hélène laughed and clapped her hands. 

"Fail? You? But I should help you to make it a success--I should bereally necessary?"

"Indispensable. Either you or another partner. "

"No! No! I shall be the partner--"

"And you mean that you would be willing to bury your youth, your beauty, on a ranch? I have heard bitter confidences out here from women forced towaste their youth on a ranch. You are one of the fine flowers ofcivilization--"

"That soon wither in the hothouse atmosphere. I wish to become a hardyannual. And when the ranch was running like a clock we could take a monthor two in Europe every year or so--"

"Rather! And I could show you off--Bother! I'll not answer. "

The telephone bell on the little table in the corner (his own privatewire) rang so insistently that Ruyler finally was magnetized reluctantlyacross the room. He put the receiver to his ear and asked, "Well?" in hismost inhospitable tones. 

The answer came in Spaulding's voice, and in a moment he sat down. 

At the end of ten minutes he hung the receiver on the hook and returnedto find Hélène standing by the window, all the light gone from her eyes, staring out at the hard brilliant scene with an expression ofhopelessness that had relaxed the very muscles of her face. 

Ruyler was shocked, and more apprehensive than he had yet been. "Hélène!"he exclaimed. "What is the matter? Surely you may confide in me if youare in trouble. "

"Oh, but I am not, " she replied coldly. "Did I look odd? I was justwondering how many really happy people there were behind thoselights--over on Belvedere, at Sausalito--the lights look so golden andsteady and sure--and glimpses of interiors at night are always sofascinating--but I suppose most of the people are commonplace and justdully discontented--"

"Well, I am afraid I have something to tell you that hardly will restoreyour delightful gayety of a few moments ago. I am sorry--but--well, thefact is I must leave for the north to-morrow morning and hardly shall beable to return before the next night. I am really distressed. I wanted somuch to take you to-morrow night--"

"And I can't wear the ruby?" Her voice was shrill. Ruyler wondered if hisstimulated imagination fancied a note of terror in it. 

"I--I--am afraid not--darling--"

"But that Spaulding man will be there to watch--"

"Unfortunately--I forgot to tell you--he cannot go--he is on an importantcase. Besides--when I make a promise I usually keep it. "

"But--but--" She stammered as if her brain were confused, then turned andpressed her face to the window. "I suppose nothing matters, " she saiddully. "Perhaps you will let me wear my own little ruby. After all, thatwas maman's, and she gave it to me before I was married. I should like towear one jewel. "

"You shall have all your jewels, if you will promise not to give them toPolly Roberts or any one else. "

"I promise. "

He went over and opened the safe, and when he rose with the gold jewelcase he saw that she was standing behind him. Once more it flittedthrough his mind that she had watched him manipulate the combinationseveral times, but he had little confidence in any but a professionalthief's ability to memorize such an involved assortment of figures as hadbeen invented for this particular safe. It was only once in a while thathe was not obliged to refer to the key that he carried in his pocketbook. 

Nor was she looking at the safe, but staring upward at a maharajah, covered with pearls of fantastic size. She took the box from his handwith a polite word of thanks, offered her cheek to be kissed, andleft the room. 

Price threw himself into a chair and rehearsed the instructions Spauldinghad given him. 

CHAPTER XI

It was half-past eleven when Ruyler and Spaulding, masked and wearingcolored silk dominoes, entered the great gates of the Thornton estate inSan Mateo, the detective merely displaying something in his palm to thestern guardians that kept the county rabble at bay. 

The mob stood off rather grumblingly, for they would have liked to getcloser to that gorgeous mass of light they could merely glimpse throughthe great oaks of the lower part of the estate, and to the music soseductive in the distance. 

They were not a rabble to excite pity, by any means. A few ragged trampshad joined the crowd, possibly a few pickpockets from the city, watchingtheir opportunity to slip in behind one of the automobiles that broughtthe guests from the station or from the estates up and down the valley. They were, for the most part, trades-people from the little towns--SanMateo, Redwood City--or the wives of the proletariat--or the servants ofthe neighboring estates. But, although, they grumbled and envied, theymade no attempt to force their way in; it was only the light-fingeredgentry the police at the great iron gates were on the lookout for. 

Ruyler, if his mind had been less harrowed with the looming and possiblydire climax of his own secret drama, would have laughed aloud at thismelodramatic entrance to the grounds of one of his most intimate friends. He and Spaulding had walked from the train, but they were not detained aslong as a gay party of young people from Atherton, who teased the policeby refusing to present their cards or lift their masks. Ruyler knew themall, but they finally sped past him without even a glance of contempt formere foot passengers, even though they looked like a couple of dodgingconspirators. 

He had met Spaulding at the station in San Francisco, and privateconversation on the crowded train had been impossible. When they hadwalked a few yards along the wide avenue, as brilliant as day with itsthousands of colored lights concealed in the astonished pines, Ruyler satdeliberately down upon a bench and motioned the detective to take theseat beside him. 

"It is time you gave me some sort of a hint, " he said. "After all, it ismy affair--"

"I know, but as I said, you might not approve my methods, and if youbalk, all is up. We've got the chance of our lives. It's now or never. "

"I do not at all like the idea that you may be forcing me into a positionwhere I may find myself doing something I shall be ashamed of for therest of my life. "

Ruyler's tone was haughty. He did not relish being led round by the nose, and his nerves were jumping. 

"Now! Now!" said Spaulding soothingly, as he lit a cigar. "When you hirea detective you hire him to do things you wouldn't do yourself; and ifyou won't give him the little help he's got to have from you or quit, what's the use of hiring him at all?

"I know perfectly well that nothing but your own eyes would convince youof what it's up to me to prove--to say nothing of the fact that I counton your entrance at the last minute to put an end to the whole badbusiness. For it is a bad business--believe me. But not a word of thatnow. You couldn't pry open my lips with a five dollar Havana. "

"Well--you say you had a talk with Madame Delano to-day. Surely you cantell me some of the things you have discovered. "

"A whole lot. I've been waiting for the chance. Not that I got anythingout of her. She's one grand bluffer and no mistake. I take off my hat toher. When I told her that I could lay hands on the proof that she wasMarie Garnett--although Jim had married her in his home town under hisown name--and that she'd gone home to France with the kid when it wasfive, taking the cue from her friend, Mrs. Lawton, and sending word backshe was dead--"

"You were equally sure a few days ago that she was Mrs. Lawton--"

"That was just my constructive imagination on the loose. It was a lovelytheory, and I sort of hung on to it. But I had no real data to go on. NowI've got the evidence that Jim Garnett died two months before the fireburnt up pretty nearly all the records, and that his body was shippedback to Holbrook Centre to be buried in the family plot. You see, he wassick for some time out on Pacific Avenue, and his death was registeredwhere the fire didn't go--"

"But what put you on?" asked Ruyler impatiently. "I should almost ratherit had been any one else. He seems to have been about as bad a lot aseven this town ever turned out. "

"He was, all right, and his father before him, although they came frommighty fine folks back east. His father came out in '49 with the goldrush crowd, panned out a good pile, and then, liking the life--SanFrancisco was a gay little burg those days--opened one of the crackgambling houses down on the Old Plaza. Plate glass windows you could lookthrough from outside if you thought it best to stay out, and see hundredsof men playing at tables where the gold pieces--often slugs--were piledas high as their noses, and hundreds more walking up and down the aisleseither waiting for a chance to sit, or hoping to appease their hungerwith the sight of so much gold. They didn't try any funny business, forevery gambler had a six-shooter in his hip pocket, and sometimes on thetable beside him. 

"Sometimes men would walk out and shoot themselves on the sidewalk infront of the windows, and not a soul inside would so much as look up. Well, Delano the first had a short life but a merry one. He couldn't keepaway from the tables himself, and first thing he knew he was broke, soldup. He went back to the mines, but his luck had gone, and his wife--shehad followed him out here--persuaded him to go back home and live in theold house, on a little income she had; and he bored all the neighbors todeath for a few years about 'early days in California' until he droppedoff. Her name was Mary Garnett. 

"That's what put me on--the G. In the middle of the name of the manMadame Delano married. I telegraphed to Holbrook Centre to find out whathis middle name was, and after that it was easy. I also found out that hewas born in California, and I guess that old wild life was in his blood. He stood Holbrook Centre until he was sixteen, and then homed back andtook up the trade he just naturally had inherited. 

"I figger out that he didn't tell his wife the truth when he married herback there, not until he was on the train pretty close to S. F. , and thenhe told her because he couldn't help himself. She couldn't help herself, either, and besides she was in love with him. He was a handsome, distinguished lookin' chap, and he kept right on bein' a fascinator aslong as he lived. 

"I guess that's the reason she left him in the end. She stood for thegambling joint, and, although she had a cool sarcastic way with her thatkept the men who fell for her at a distance, she was a good decoy, andshe looked a regular queen at the head of the green table. She was chummywith Jim's intimates, two of whom were D. V. Bimmer and 'Gene Bisbee, buteven 'Gene didn't dare take any liberties with her. 

"It was natural that a woman brought up as she had been should have kepther child out of it, and I figger that she got disgusted with Jim andcame to the full sense of her duty to the poor kid about the same time. But she didn't go until Jim settled so much a month on her through oldLawton--who used to amuse himself at Garnett's a good deal in those days, and who was one of her best friends. 

"Well, she also got Garnett to make a curious sort of a will, leaving hismoney to James Lawton, to 'dispose of as agreed upon. ' She had a thriftybusiness head, had that French dame, and she had made him buy propertywhen he was flush, and put it in her name, although she gave a writtenagreement never to sell out as long as he lived. 

"He agreed to let her go because he was dippy about another skirt at thetime, and, besides, she played on his family pride--lineal descendant ofthe Delanos, Garnetts, and so forth. He'd never seen the kid after it wastaken to the convent, but I guess he liked the idea, all right, of itsbeing brought up wearing the old name, and gettin' rid of Marie at thesame time. 

"She was too canny to leave him a loophole for divorce, even inCalifornia; but I guess that didn't worry him much. 

"If the earthquake and fire hadn't come so soon after the will wasprobated there might have been a lot of speculation about it, among men, at least. Those old gossips in the Club windows would soon have beenputting two and two together; but the calamity that burnt up all the Clubwindows, just swept it clean out of their heads. 

"I figger out that old Lawton continued to pay Madame Delano the incomeshe'd been havin' both from Jim and her properties, out of his ownpocket, until the city was rebuilt and he could settle the estate. He hadto borrow the money to rebuild the houses Jim had put up on his wife'sproperty, and when things got to a certain pass he wrote Madame D. Tocome along and take over her property. She'll be good and rich one ofthese days, when all the mortgages are paid off and Lawton paid back, butit was wise for her to stay on the job. Lawton is dead straight, but hispartner is sowing wild oats in his old age--good old S. F. Style, and Iguess it ain't wise to tempt him too far. Get me?"

"It's atrocious!"

"Oh, not nearly so bad as it might be. Just think, if it had beenGabrielle, or Pauline-Marie, or even Mrs. Lawton. That's the worst kindof bad blood for a woman to inherit. Marie Garnett hung on like grimdeath to what the grand society you move in pretends to value most, andthe Lord knows she'll never lose it now. 

"Nor need there be any scandal to drive your family to suicide. The thingto do is to hustle Madame Delano out of San Francisco. She'll go, allright, with you to look after her interests. She don't fancy beingrecognized and blackmailed, or I miss my guess. You may have to payBisbee something, but D. V. 's not that sort, and I don't think anybodyelse is on. If they've suspected they'll soon forget it when the old ladydisappears from the Palace Hotel. Gee, but she has a nerve. "

"She is an old cynic. If she had any snobbery in her she'd be hereto-night, rubbing elbows with the women who never knew of her existencetwenty years ago, although their husbands did. It has satisfied herironic French soul to sit in the court of the Palace Hotel day after dayand defy San Francisco to recognize Marie Garnett in the obese MadameDelano, whose daughter is one of the great ladies of the city to whoseunderworld she once belonged, and from whose filthy profits she derivesher income. Good God!"

He sat forward and clutched his head, but Spaulding, who had drawn outhis watch, tapped him on the shoulder. 

"Come on, " he said. "Time's gettin' short. The stunt is to be pulled offjust before supper. "

CHAPTER XII

I

They walked rapidly up the close avenue--planted far back in the Fiftiesby Ford Thornton's grandfather--the blaze of light at the end of the longperspective growing wider and wider. As they emerged they paused for amoment, dazzled by the scene. 

The original home of the Thorntons had been of ordinary Americanarchitecture and covered with ivy; it might have been transplanted fromsome old aristocratic village in the East. Flora Thornton had maintainedthat only one style of architecture was appropriate in a state settled bythe Spaniards, and famous for its missions of Moorish architecture. Fordyloved the old house, but as he denied his wife nothing he had given her amillion, three years before the fire which so sadly diminished fortunes, and told her to build any sort of house she pleased; if she would onlypromise to live in it and not desert him twice a year for Europe. 

The immense structure, standing on a knoll, bore a certain resemblance tothe Alhambra, with its heavy square towers; its arched gateways leadinginto courtyards with fountains or sunken pools, the red brown of thestucco which looked like stone and was not. To-night it was blazing withlights of every color. 

So were the ancient oaks, which were old when the Alhambra was built, the shrubberies, the vast rose garden. The surface of the pool in thesunken garden reflected the green or red masses of light that shot upevery few moments from the four corners of the terrace surrounding it. On the lawn just above and to the right of the house, a platform hadbeen built for dancing; it was enclosed on three sides with an arbor ofmany alcoves, lined with flowers, soft lights concealed in dependingclusters of oranges. 

And everywhere there were people dressed in costumes, gorgeous, picturesque, impressive, historic, or recklessly invented, but suggestingevery era when dress counted at all. They danced on the great platform tothe strains of the invisible band, strolled along the terraces above thesunken garden, wandered through the groves and "grounds, " or sat in thewindows of the great house or in its courts. All wore the little blacksatin mask prescribed by Mrs. Thornton, and created an illusion thattransported the imagination far from California. Ruyler had a whimsicalsense of being on another star where the favored of the different periodsof Earth had foregathered for the night. 

But there was nothing ghostly in the shrill chatter as incessant as thetwitter of the agitated birds, who found their night snatched from themand hardly knew whether to scold or join in the chorus. 

Ruyler had always protested against the high-pitched din made by even sixAmerican women when gathered together, and to the infernal racket at anylarge entertainment; but to-night he sighed, forgetting his apprehensionsfor the moment. 

He had exquisite memories of these lovely grounds; he and Hélène hadspent several days with Mrs. Thornton during their engagement, and shehad lent them the house for their honeymoon; he would have liked towander through the pleasant spaces with his wife to-night and make loveto her, instead of spying on her in the company of a detective. 

For that, he was forced to conclude, was what he had been brought for. Spaulding had mentioned her name casually, when telling him that he mustbe on hand to nab the "party" who was at the bottom of the whole trouble;but Spaulding hardly could have watched the person who was blackmailingwithout including her in his surveillance. He wished now that he had leftthat part of the mystery to take care of itself, trusting to hismother-in-law's departure to relieve the situation. No doubt she wouldhave told him the truth herself rather than leave her daughter to themercy of the men who knew her secret. 

But he was still far from suspecting the worst of the truth. 

There were a number of men in fancy dominoes; he and Spaulding crossedthe lawn in front of the house unchallenged and, passing under thefrowning archway, entered the first of the courts. 

The oblong sunken pool was banked with myrtle, and above, as well as inthe great inner court with the fountain, there were narrow arcadedwindows with fluttering silken curtains. Mrs. Thornton had too satiric asense of humor to have had the famous arabesques of the Alhambrareproduced any more than the massive coats-of-arms above the arches, butthe walls were delicately colored, the delicate columns looked like oldivory, and the greatest of the local architects had been entirelysuccessful in combining the massiveness of the warrior stronghold withthe airy lightness and spaciousness of the pleasure house. 

The bedrooms, Ruyler told Spaulding, were all as modern as they wereluxurious, and the library, living-rooms, and dining-room, were in thebest American style. Fordy had rebelled at too much "Spanish atmosphere, "his blood being straight Anglo-Saxon, and Mrs. Thornton always knew whento yield. Nevertheless, Flora Thornton had built the proper setting forher barbaric beauty, and, possibly, spirit. 

People were sitting about the courts on piles of colored silken cushions, those that had got themselves up in Eastern costumes having driftednaturally to the suitable surroundings; for, after all, the Moors hadbeen Mohammedans. 

"Don't let's hang round here, " said the detective, "and don't standholding yourself like a ramrod--like that gent out there with the ruffthat must be taking the skin off his chin. I kinder thought I'd like tosee the whole show, but we'd best go now and wait for our little turn. "

He led the way round the building to the rear of the southwest tower. There was a little grove of jasmine trees just beneath it, that made theair overpoweringly sweet, but there were no lights on this side, as thegarages, stables, vegetable gardens, and servants' quarters would havedestroyed the picture. 

Spaulding glanced about sharply, but there was not even a strollingcouple, and even the moon was shining on the other side of the heavy massof buildings. 

"Now, listen, " he said. "You see this window?"--he indicated one directlyover their heads. "At exactly one o'clock, when everybody is flocking tothe supper tables on the terraces, I expect some one to lean out of thatwindow and talk to some one who will be waiting just below. There may beno talk, but I think there will be, and I want you to listen to everyword of it without so much as drawing a long breath, no matter what issaid, until I grab your elbow--like this--then I want you to put up yourhand in a hurry while I'm also attendin' to business. 

"That's all I'll say now. But by the time a few words have been said, later, I guess you'll be on. 

"Now, we must resign ourselves to a long wait without a smoke and tokeeping perfectly still. I dared not risk comin' any later for fear theothers might be beforehand, too. "

Ruyler ground his teeth. He felt ridiculous and humiliated. It was nocompensation that he was holding up the wall of a stucco Moorish palaceand that some three hundred masked people in fancy dress were withinearshot. .. Or did the way he was togged out make him feel all the moreabsurd? The whole thing was beastly un-American. .. . 

But, was it, after all? If he and Hélène had been here together to-night, not married and harrowed, but engaged and quick with romance, would hehave thought it absurd to conspire and maneuver to separate her from thecrowd and snatch a few moments of heavenly solitude? Would he havedespised himself for suffering torments if she flouted him or for wantingto murder any man who balked him?

Love, and all the passions, creative and destructive, it engendered, allthe sentiments and follies and crimes, to say nothing of ambition andgreed and the lust to kill in war--these were instincts and traits thatappeared in mankind generation after generation, in every cornercivilized and savage of the globe. The world changed somewhat in formduring its progress, but never in substance. 

And mystery and intrigue were equally a part of life, as indigenous tothe Twentieth Century as to those days long entombed in history when thetroops of Ferdinand and Isabella sat down on the plain before Grenada. 

Plot and melodrama were in every life; in some so briefly as hardly to berecognized, in others--in that of certain men and women in the publiceye, for instance--they were almost in the nature of a continuousperformance. 

In these days men took a bath morning and evening, ate daintily, had arefined vocabulary to use on demand, dressed in tweeds instead of velvet. There were longer intervals between the old style of warfare when menwere always plugging one another full of holes in the name of religion ordisputed territory, merely to amuse themselves with a tryout of Rightagainst Might, or to gratify the insane ambition of some upstart likeNapoleon. To-day the business world was the battlefield, and it was hiscapital a man was always healing, his poor brain that collapsed nightlyafter the strain and nervous worry of the day. 

It suddenly felt quite normal to be here flattened against a wall waitingfor some impossible dénouement. 

Nevertheless, he was sick with apprehension. 

Would it merely be the prelude to another drama? Was his life to be aseries of unwritten plays, of which he was both the hero and thebewildered spectator? Or would it bring him calm, the terrible calm ofstagnation, of an inner life finished, sealed, buried?

It was inevitable in these romantic surroundings and conditions that heshould revert to his almost forgotten jealousy. Suppose Spaulding hadstumbled upon something. .. . But he had been asked for no suchevidence. .. . It would be a damnable liberty. .. . It might be inextricablywoven with the business in hand. .. . There were other men besides Doremuswhom Hélène saw constantly. .. . Spaulding may have seen his chance to nipthe thing in the bud, and had taken the risk. .. . 

He felt the detective's lips at his ear: "Hear anything? Move a littleso's you can look up. "

Ruyler heard his wife's voice above him, then Aileen Lawton's. He partedthe branches and saw the two girls lean over the low sill of thecasement. Both had removed their masks, but their faces were only dimlyrevealed. Their voices, however, were distinct enough, and his wife's wasdull and flat. 

"Oh, I can't, " she said. "I can't. "

"Well, you'll just jolly well have to. You've got it, haven't you?"

"Oh, yes, I've got it!"

"Well, he'll never suspect you. "

"I shall tell him. "

"Tell him? You little fool. And give us all away?"

"I'd mention no other names. "

"As if he wouldn't probe until he found out. Don't you know Price Ruyleryet? My father said once he'd have made a great District Attorney. What'sthe use of telling him later, for that matter? Why not now?"

"I haven't the courage yet. I might have one day--at just the rightmoment. I never thought I was a coward. "

"You're just a kid. That's what's the matter. We ought to have left youout. I told Polly that--"

"You couldn't! Oh, don't you see you couldn't. That's the terrible partof it! Left me out? I'd have found my way in. "

"I'm not so sure. You were interested in heaps of things, and in love, and all that--"

"Oh, I'd like to excuse myself by blaming it on being bored, and tired oftrying to amuse myself doing nothing worth while, but it's bad blood, that's what it is, bad blood, and you know it, if none of the others do. "

"Oh, I'm not one of your heredity fiends. When did your mother tell you?"

"Only the other day. "

"Well, she ought to have told you long ago. I believe you'd have kept outif you'd known. "

"Wouldn't I? But of course she hated to tell the truth to me--"

"Well, if I'd known that you didn't know I'd have told you, all right. Iwormed it out of Dad soon after you arrived, and at first I thought itwas a good joke on Society, to say nothing of Price Ruyler, with his airof God having created heaven first, maybe, but New York just after. ThenI got fond of you and I wouldn't have told for the world. But I wouldhave put you on your guard if I'd known. "

"Oh, it doesn't matter. Even if Price doesn't find out about this, if helearns the other--who my father was, and that awful men have recognizedmy mother--I suppose he'll hate me, and in time I'll go back to Rouen--"

"Now, you don't think as ill as that of him, do you? He makes me so madsometimes I could spit in his face, but if he's one thing he's true blue. He's the straight masculine type with a streak of old romance that wouldmake him love a woman the more, the sorrier he was for her, and theweaker she was--I mean so long as she was young. After this, just get towork on your character, kid. When you're thirty maybe he won't feel thatit's his whole duty to protect you. You'll never be hard and seasonedlike me, nor able to take care of yourself. I like danger, andexcitement, and uncertainty, and mystery, and intrigue, and lying, andwriggling out of tight places. I'd have gone mad in this hole long ago, if I hadn't, for I don't care for sport. But you were intended to developinto what is called a 'fine woman, ' surrounded by the right sort of manmeanwhile. And Price Ruyler is the right sort. I'll say that much forhim. He'd have driven me to drink, but he's just your sort--"

"And what am I doing? I am the most degraded woman in the world. "

"Oh, no, you're not. Not by a long sight. You don't know how much worseyou could be. One woman who is here to-night I saw lying dead drunk inthe road between San Mateo and Burlingame the other day when I wasdriving with Alice Thorndyke, and Alice is having her fourth or fifthlover, I forget which--"

"They are no worse than I. "

"Listen. He's coming. Got it ready?"

"I can't. "

"You must. He'll hound you in the _Merry Tattler_ until the whole townknows you're a welcher, and not a soul would speak to you. That is theone unpardonable sin--"

"I wish I'd told Price--"

"Oh, no, you don't. This is just a lovely way out. Glad he had theinspiration. Hello, Nick. "

A man had groped his way between the trees and stood just underthe window. 

"What are you doing here?" asked Doremus sourly. 

"Witness, witness, my dear Nick. Besides, poor Hélène never would havecome alone, so there you are. "

"To hell with all this melodramatic business. It could have been doneanywhere--"

"Not much. Dark corners for dark doings. "

"Well, hand it over. "

Ruyler had given his brain an icy shower bath as soon as he heard hiswife's voice, and was now as cool and alert as even the detective couldhave wished. He did not wait for the promised impulse to his elbow; hishand shot up just ahead of Doremus's and closed over his wife's hand, which, he felt at once, held the ruby. At the same moment Spauldingcaught Doremus by his medieval collar and shook him until the man's teethchattered, then he slapped his face and kicked him. 

"Now, you, " he said standing over the panting man, who was mopping hisbleeding nose, and holding the electric torch so that it would shine onhis own face. "You get out of California, d'you hear? You're a gamblerand a blackmailer and a panderer to old women, and I've got someevidence that would drag you into court however it turned out, so'syou'd find this town a live gridiron. So, git, while you can. Go whilethe going's good. "

Doremus, too shaken to reply, slunk off, and Spaulding after a glanceupward, left as silently. 

CHAPTER XIII

I

Aileen had shrieked and fled. Ruyler stood in the room with the ruby inhis open hand. He saw that Hélène was standing quite erect before him. She had made no attempt to leave the room, nor did she appear to bethreatened with hysterics. 

He groped until he found the electric button. The room, as Ruyler hadinferred, was Mrs. Thornton's winter boudoir, a gorgeous room of yellowbrocade and oriental stuffs. 

"Will you sit down?" he asked. 

Hélène shook her head. She was very white and she looked as old as ayoung actress who has been doing one night stands for three months. Behind the drawn mask of her face there was her indestructible youth, butso faint that it thought itself dead. 

She looked at her hands, which she twisted together as if they were cold. 

"Will you tell me the truth now?" asked Price. 

"Don't you guess it?"

"When I came here to-night I believed that you were the victim ofblackmail. I was not watching you--I hope you will take my word for that. We--I had a detective on the case--Spaulding merely wanted to nab the manwho was blackmailing you--"

"Do you still believe that?"

"I overheard your conversation with Aileen Lawton. I don't know whatto believe. "

"I am a gambler. My father was a gambler. He kept a notorious place inSan Francisco. His name out here was James Garnett. My grandfather was agambler. He was even more spectacular--"

"I know all that. Don't mind. "

"You knew it?" For the first time she looked at him, but she turned hereyes away at once and stared at the oblong of dark framed by thewindow. "Why--"

"Spaulding told me to-night only. "

"Mother told me a week or so ago. She'd been recognized. Shortly after Imarried, when she found out how the women played bridge and poker here, she made me promise I'd never touch a card, never play any sort ofgambling game. I promised readily enough, and I thought nothing of herinsistence. Maman was old-fashioned in many ways--I mean the life welived in. Rouen was so different from this that I could understand howmany things would shock her. I never thought about it--but--it was aboutsix months ago--you were away for a week and I stayed with Polly Robertsat the Fairmont. I knew of course that she played and that Aileen and alot of the others did, but I hadn't given the matter a thought. One heardnothing but bridge, bridge, bridge. I was sick of the word. 

"But I found they played poker. Polly and Aileen, Alice Thorndyke, JanetMaynard, Mary Kimball, Nick Doremus, Rex and one or two other men whocould get off in the afternoons. 

"I never had dreamed any one in society played for such high stakes. Janet Maynard and Mary Kimball could afford it, but Polly and Alice andAileen couldn't. Still they often won--enough, anyhow, to clean up and goon. Doremus is a wonderful player. That is how I got interested, watchinghim after he had explained the game to me. 

"It was a long time before I was persuaded to take a hand. It was sointeresting just to watch. And not only the game, but their faces. Somewould have a regular 'poker face, ' others would give themselves away. Once Aileen had the most awful hysterics. We were afraid some one outsidewould hear her; the deadening was burnt out of the walls of the Fairmontat the time of the fire. But we were in the middle room of the suite. 

"Nick told her in his dreadful cold expressionless voice that if she everdid that again he'd never play another game with her. That meant thatthey'd all drop her, and she came to and promised, and she kept her word. Poker is the breath of life to her. I think she'd become a drug fiend ifshe couldn't have it. 

"At last they persuaded me to play. We were playing at Nick's, and aftera light dinner served by his Jap, we went right on playing untilmidnight. I never thought of you or anything. I seemed to respond withevery nerve in my body and brain. I won and won and won, and even when Ilost I didn't mind. The sensation, the tearing excitement just under aperfectly cool brain was wonderful. 

"I only ceased to enjoy it when I realized what it meant. When I couldn'tkeep away from it. When I lived for the hour when we would meet, --atPolly's, or at Nick's or at Aileen's--any of the places where we weresupposed to be dancing, but where there was no danger of being found out. Of course I dared not have them at home, and the others lived with theirfamilies, or had too many servants. .. . 

"I came fully to my senses one day when Nick told me I was a borngambler if ever there was one. Then, when I realized, I becamedesperately unhappy. 

"I was the slave of a thing. I was deceiving you. When I was at the tableI loved poker better than you, better than anything on earth. When I wasalone I hated it. But I couldn't break away. Besides, I didn't alwayswin. I had to play in the hope of winning back. Or if I won a lot it wasa point of honor to go on and play again, and give them their chance. 

"Mrs. Thornton found out. She gave me a terrible talking to. I am afraidI was very insolent. 

"But she came up that night of the Assembly and warned me that you weredown stairs. I was playing in Polly's room. We had all danced two orthree times and then slipped up to the next floor by different stairs andlifts. I liked her better then. Of course she did it for your sake, notmine. But she's a good sort, not a cat. 

"You have not noticed, but I have not bought a new gown this seasonexcept that little gray one and this--which was made in the house. Idared not pawn my jewels, for fear you would miss them. 

"I have been in hell. 

"Then--it was that evening you heard maman reproach me for breaking mypromise--I had lost a dreadful lot of money and Nick had scurried roundand borrowed it for me. I didn't know then that he meant all the time toget hold of the ruby--I am sure now that he cheated and made me lose. 

"Well, I sent the maid away that night and told maman. She was nearly offher head. I never saw her excited before. Then she told me the truth. Ifelt as if I had been turned to stone. But I felt suddenly cool and wary. I knew I must keep my head. It was as if my father had suddenly comealive in my brain. I had never lied to you before, merely put you off. But how I lied that night! I felt possessed. But I knew I must not befound out, and I made up my mind to stop playing as soon as I came outeven. If I had known that my father and my grandfather had been gamblersI never should have touched a card. I'd far rather have drunk poison. 

"I made up my mind then, and there to stop and I felt quite capable ofit. But I had to go on and square myself, for I owed that money to Nick. But when I played it was with my head only. All the fever had gone out ofmy veins. I loathed it. I loathed still more deceiving you. 

"I won and won and won. I thought I was delivered. I was almost happyagain. Some day I meant to tell you--when it was all over. 

"Then I began to lose horribly. Thousands. It ran up to twenty thousand. I did not betray myself, and the girls thought I had money of my own andcould pay my losses quite easily. They didn't know that Nick alwayshelped me out. He was never the least bit in love with me--he couldn'tlove any woman--but he said I played such a wonderful game and was such asport, never lost my head, that he wouldn't lose me for the world--when Ithreatened to stop and never play again. 

"But all the time he wanted the ruby. I found that out when he told me hemust have the money inside of a week; he'd taken it out of his business, and it really belonged to his partners, and they'd find him out and sendhim to prison--

"I offered him my jewels. They would have brought half their value atleast. I could have told you they were stolen--only one more lie. It wasthen he said he must have the ruby. He had known about it ever since youcame out here, but after he saw it on me that night at the Gwynnes' hewas more than ever determined to have it. 

"I laughed at him at first. It seemed preposterous that he could demand aruby worth two or three hundred thousand dollars in payment for a debt oftwenty thousand. I thought of selling my jewels and furs and laces, orpawning them and raising the amount--he only had my I. O. U. For that sum. But I didn't know where to go. So I told Aileen. She wouldn't hear of mydisposing of my things, said it would, be all over town in twenty-fourhours. She advised me to get the twenty thousand out of you on onepretext or another. 

"I tried. You will remember. Then Nick began to haunt me. He whispered inmy ear wherever we met. I was nearly frantic. He said he could hold me upto shame without compromising himself. I had written him some franticletters, and he said they read just like--like--the other thing. 

"I felt perfectly helpless. I knew that even if I did manage to pawn thejewels, you would miss them from the safe and trace them. I ceased tofeel cool. I nearly went off my head. But I stopped gambling. I felt sureby this time that he could make me lose, but I couldn't prove it. Aileentold me I must give him the ruby. He promised me before Aileen that hewould give me back my I. O. U. 's as well as my notes if I would hand overthe ruby. He knew I was to wear it to-night. 

"Finally I gave in. Yesterday Nick called me up on the telephone and toldme to come down to the California Market to lunch, and to bring Aileen. He told me there that unless I promised to give him the ruby to-night, and kept my word, he'd either give my I. O. U. 's and my notes to you or tothe _Merry Tattler_. He didn't care which. I could have my choice. 

"I said I would do it. But it was terribly conspicuous. Everybody wouldnotice when it was gone. He said I must conceal it anyhow until weunmasked after supper, and then I could pretend I had lost it. Hediscussed several plans for having me slip it to him, but it was Aileenwho insisted we should come here. Mrs. Thornton never opens her boudoirat a party. Everywhere else would be a blaze of light. In this darkcorner we should be safe, especially if he came from the outside and Ifrom inside. How did your detective find out?"

"I think Aileen did a decent thing for once in her life. "

She went on in her monotonous voice. "I felt reckless after that and Ireally was gay and almost happy at dinner last night. The die was cast. Ididn't much care for anything. I thought perhaps it was my last nightwith you--that when I told you I had lost the ruby you would suspect andturn me out of your house, tell maman to take me back to Rouen. 

"Then came that awful moment when you said you had to go away and I couldnot wear it. For a few moments I thought I should scream and tell youeverything. But I was both too proud and too much of a coward. Then Iknew I should have to rob the safe, and somehow I hated that part morethan anything else. I did it just ten minutes before Rex and Polly calledfor me to motor down here. It had seemed the most horrible thing in theworld to be a gambler, but it was worse to be a thief. 

"I remembered the combination perfectly. I have that sort of memory: itregisters photographically. I had seen you move the combination severaltimes. Perhaps I deliberately registered it. I can't say. I have lived insuch a maze of intrigue lately. I can't say. That is all--except that Ididn't get the letters and the other things. "

"He had an envelope in one hand. Spaulding has it beyond a doubt. "

CHAPTER XIV

There was silence for a moment and then Price said awkwardly: "It is apity you haven't the chain or you could wear the ruby for the rest ofthe evening. "

She turned her eyes from the window and stared at him. "I have thechain--" She raised her hand to the tip of her bodice--"but--but--youcan't mean--it isn't possible that you can forgive me. "

"I think I have taken very bad care of you. What are you, after all, buta brilliant child? I am thirty-three--"

He suddenly tore off his domino with, a feeling of rage, and thrust hishands into his friendly pockets. He had never made many verbalprotestations to her, although the most exacting wife could have found nofault with his love-making. But to-night he felt dumb; he was mortallyafraid of appearing high and noble and magnanimous. 

"You see, things always happen during the first years of married life. Perhaps more happens--I mean in a pettier way--when the man has leisureand can see too much of his wife. In my case--our case--it was the otherway--and something almost tragic happened. So I vote we treat itcasually, as something that must have been expected sooner or later todisturb our--our--even tenor--and forget it. "

"Forget it?"

"Well, yes. I can if you can. "

"And can you forget who I am?"

"You are exactly what you were before those scoundrels recognized yourmother, and--and--set me going. Of course I had to find out the truth. Ithought you knew and tried to make you tell me. But youwouldn't--couldn't--and I had to employ Spaulding. "

"Do you mean you would have married me if you had known the truth atthe time?"

"Rather. "

"And--but--I told you--I became a regular gambler. "

He could not help smiling. "I have no fear of your gambling again. And Idon't fancy you were a bit worse than the others who had no gamblingblood in them--all the world has that. Gambling is about the earliest ofthe vices. I--if--you wouldn't mind promising--I know you will keep it. "

"Nothing under heaven would induce me to play again. But--but--I openedyour safe like a thief and stole--"

"Oh, not quite. After all it was yours as much as mine. If I had diedwithout a will you would have got it. 

"Of course--I know what you mean--but men have always driven women into acorner, and they have had to get out by methods of their own. I wish nowI had given you the twenty thousand. I prefer you should accept mydecision that it was all my fault. Give me the chain. "

She drew it from her bosom and handed it to him. He fastened the ruby inits place and threw the chain over her neck. The great jewel lit up thefront of her somber gown like a sudden torch in a cavern. 

The stern despair of Hélène's tragic mask relaxed. She dropped her faceinto her hands and began to sob. Then Ruyler was himself again. Hepicked her up in his arms and settled comfortably into the deepest ofthe chairs. 

THE END