The Coast of Chance

  XV

  A LADY IN DISTRESS

  She had returned, ready for pitched battle with Clara, and on thethreshold there had met her the very turn in the affair that she haddreaded all along--the setting of Kerr and Harry upon each other.

  These were two whom she had kept apart even in her mind--the man to whomshe was pledged, with whom she had supposed herself in love, and the manfor whom she was flying in the face of all her traditions. She had notscrutinized the reason of her extraordinary behavior; not since thatdreadful day when the vanishing mystery had taken positive form in himhad she dared to think how she felt about Kerr. She had only acted,acted; only asked herself what to do next, and never why; only taken hiscause upon herself and made it her own, as if that was her naturalright. She could hardly believe that it was she who had let herself goto this extent. All her life she had been docile to public opinion,buxom to conventions, respectful of those legal and moral rules laiddown by some rigid material spirit lurking in mankind. But now when themoment had come, when the responsibility had descended upon her, shefound that these things had in no way persuaded her. They were not vitalenough for her proposition. They had no meaning now--no more than properparlor furniture for a castaway on a desert island.

  Then this was herself, a creature too much concerned with the primalharmonies of life to be impressed by the modulations her decade set uponthem. This was that self which she had obscurely cherished as no morereal than a fairy; but at Kerr's acclamation it had proclaimed itselfmore real than flesh and blood, and Kerr himself the most real thing inall her life.

  Then what was Harry? The bland implacable pronouncement of Shima hadsummoned him up to stand beside Kerr more clearly than her own eyescould have shown him. Surely she was giving to Kerr what belonged toHarry, or else she had already given to Harry what ought to have beenKerr's. That was her last conclusion. It was horrible, it was hopeless,but it was not untrue. It had crept upon her so softly that it had takenher unawares. She was appalled at the unreason of passion. Unsought byhim, unclaimed, in every common sense a stranger to him--how could shebelong to him? And yet of that she was sure by the way he had unveiledher the first night, by the way he had quickened her dreaming into life.As many times as she had fancied what love was like she had neverdreamed it could be like this. It was mockery that she could beconcerned for one who only wanted of her--plunder. Yet it was so. Shewas as tremblingly concerned for his fate as if she owned his wholedevotion; and his fate at this moment, she was convinced, was in Harry'shands.

  Kerr, with his brilliant initiative, might carry him off, but Kerr wasstill the quarry. For had not Harry, from the very beginning, knownsomething about him? Hadn't he at first denied having seen him before,and then admitted it? Hadn't he dropped hints and innuendoes withoutever an explanation? She remembered the singular fact of the Embassyball, twice mentioned, each time with that singular name of FarrellWand. And to know--if that _was_ what Harry knew--that a man of suchfame was in a community where a ring of such fame had disappeared--whatfurther proof was wanted?

  Then why didn't Harry speak? And what was going on on his side of theaffair? Harry's side would have been her side a few days before. Now,unaccountably, it was not. Nor was Kerr's side hers either. She wasstanding between the two--standing hesitating between her love of oneand her loyalty to the other and what he represented. The power might behers to tip the scales Harry held, either to Kerr's undoing, or to hisprotection. At least she thought she might protect him, if she coulddiscover Harry's secret. Her special, authorized relation to him--herright to see him often, question him freely--even cajole--should makethat easy. But she shrank from what seemed like betrayal, even thoughshe did not betray him to Kerr by name.

  Then, on the other hand, she doubted how much she could do with Harry.She wasn't sure how far she was prepared to try him after that scene oftheirs. She had no desire to pique him further by seeing too much ofKerr. On her own account she wanted for the present to avoid Kerr. Heroused a feeling in her that she feared--a feeling intoxicating to thesenses, dazzling to the mind, unknitting to the will. How could shetell, if they were left alone together for a long enough space of time,that she might not take the jewel from her neck, at his request, andhand it to him--and damn them both? If only she could escape seeing himaltogether until she could find out what Harry was doing, and what shemust do!

  Meanwhile, there was her promise to Ella. She recalled it withdifficulty. It seemed a vague thing in the light of her latestdiscovery, though she could never meet Clara in disagreement without aqualm. But she made the plunge that evening, before Clara left for theBullers', while she was at her dressing-table in the half-disarray whichbrings out all the softness and the disarming physical charm of women.From her low chair Flora spoke laughingly of Ella's perturbation. Clarapaused, with the powder puff in her hand, while she listened to Flora'sexplanation of how Ella feared that some one might, after all theseyears, be going to marry Judge Buller. Who this might be she did noteven hint at. She left it ever so sketchy. But the little stare withwhich Clara met it, the amusement, the surprise, and then the shortestpossible little laugh, were guarantee that Clara had seen it all. Shehad filled out Flora's sketch to the full outline, and pronounced it, asFlora had, an absurdity. But though Clara had laughed she had gone awaywith her delicate brows a little drawn together, as if she'd reallyfound more than a laugh, something worth considering, in Ella's state ofmind.

  Flora was left with the uneasy feeling that perhaps she had unwittinglydelivered Ella into Clara's hands; that Ella, too, was in danger ofbecoming part of Clara's schemes. Danger seemed to be spreading likecontagion. It was borne in upon her that from this time forward dangerswould multiply. That nothing was going to be easier, but everythinginfinitely harder, to the end; and now was the time to act if ever shehoped to make way through the tangle.

  She heard the wheels of Clara's departing conveyance. Now was her chancefor an interview with Harry. She spent twenty minutes putting togetherthree sentences that would not arouse his suspicions. She made twocopies, and sent them by separate messengers, one to his rooms, one tothe club, with orders they be brought back if he was not there toreceive them. Then--the miserable business of waiting in the largehouse full of echoes and the round ghostly globes of electric lights,with that thing around her neck for which--did they but know of it--halfthe town would break in her windows and doors.

  The wind traveled the streets without, and shook the window-casings. Shecowered over the library fire, listening. The leaping flames set hershadow dancing like a goblin. A bell rang, and the shadow and the flamegave a higher leap as if in welcome of what had arrived. She went to thelibrary door. In the glooms and lights outside Shima was standing, andtwo messengers. It was odd that both should arrive at once. She steppedback and stood waiting with a quicker pulse. Shima entered with twoletters upon his tray. She had a moment's anxiety lest both her noteshad been brought back to her, but no--the envelope which lay on topshowed Harry's writing. She tore it open hastily. Harry wrote that hewould be delighted, and might he bring a friend with him; a bully fellowwhom he wanted her to meet? He added she might send over for some girland they could have a jolly little party.

  Flora looked at this communication blankly. Was Harry, who had alwaysjumped at the chance of a tete-a-tete, dodging her? In her astonishmentshe let the other envelope fall. She stooped, and then for a momentremained thus, bent above it. The superscription was not hers. The notewas not addressed to Harry, but to her, and in a handwriting she hadnever seen before!

  Again the peal of the electric bell. Shima appeared with a thirdenvelope. This time it was her own note returned to her. With thefeeling she was bewitched she took up the mysterious letter from thefloor and opened it. She read the strange handwriting:

  May I see you, anywhere, at any time, to-night? ROBERT KERR.

  It was as if Kerr himself had entered the room, masked and muffledbeyond recognition, and then, face to face with
her, let fall hisdisguise. She gazed at the words, at the signature, thrilled andfrightened. She looked at Harry's note, hesitated; caught a glimpsebetween the half-open doors of the two messengers waiting stolidly inthe hall. Waiting for answers! Answers to such communications! She madea dash for the table where were pens and ink and on one sheet scrawled:

  "Certainly. Bring him," appending her initials; on the other the word"Impossible," and her full name. Then she hurried the letters intoShima's hands, lest her courage should fail her--lest she should regrether choice.

  "Anywhere, at any time, to-night," she repeated softly. Why, the manmust be mad! Yet she permitted herself a moment of imagining what mighthave been if her answers had been reversed.

  But no, she dared not meet Kerr's impetuous attacks yet. First she mustget at Harry. And how was that to be managed if he insisted onsurrounding himself with "a jolly little party?"

  She found a moment that evening in which to ask him to walk out to thePresidio with her the next morning. But he was going to Burlingame onthe early train. He was woefully sorry. It was ages since he had had amoment with her alone, but at least he would see her that evening. Shehad not forgotten? They were going to that dinner--and then thereception afterward? Her suspicion that he was deliberately dodgingwavered before his boyish, cheerful, unconscious face. And yet,following on the heels of his tendency to question and coerce her, thisreticence was amazing. The next day would be lost with Harry beyondreach--twelve hours while Kerr was at the mercy of chance, and she wasat the mercy of Kerr.

  His tactics did not leave her breathing space. She felt as the lilieswavering just beyond his reach. She remembered his ingenuity. Shethought of the blows of his cane. Lucky for her she was not rooted likethe lilies! The only safety was in keeping beyond his reach.

  Yet when his card was brought up to her the next morning she looked atthe printed name as wistfully as if it had been his face. It cost aneffort to send down the cold fiction that she was not at home, and shecould not deny herself the consolation of leaning on the baluster of thesecond landing, and listening for his step in the hall below. But therewas no movement. Could it be possible he was waiting for her to come in?Hush! That was the drawing-room door. But instead of Kerr, Shimaemerged. He was heading for the stair with his little silver tray andupon it--a note. Oh, impudence! How dared he give her the lie, by thehand of her own butler! She stood her ground, and Shima delivered themissive as if it were most usual to find one's mistress beflounced inpeignoir and petticoats, hanging breathless over the baluster.

  "Take that back," she said coldly, "and tell him that I am out; and,Shima,"--she addressed the man's intelligence--"make him understand it."

  She watched the note departing. How she longed to call Shima back andopen it! There was a pause--then Kerr emerged from the drawing-room. Ashe crossed the hall he glanced up at the stair and as much as wasvisible of the landing. He hadn't taken Shima's word for it, after all!

  The vestibule door closed noiselessly after him, the outer door shutwith a heavy sound. Yet before that sound had ceased to vibrate, sheheard it shut again. Was he coming back? There was a presence in thevestibule very vaguely seen through the glass and lace of the innerdoor. Her heart beat with apprehension. The door opened upon Clara.

  Flora precipitately retreated. She was more disturbed than relieved bythe unexpected appearance. For Clara must have seen Kerr leave thehouse. Three times now within three days he had been found with her orwaiting for her. She wondered if Clara would ask her awkward questions.But Clara, when she entered Flora's dressing-room a few moments laterwith the shopping-list, instead of a question, offered a statement.

  "I don't like that man," she announced.

  "Who?"

  "That Kerr. I met him just now on the steps. Don't you feel there issomething wrong about him?"

  "Oh, I don't know," said Flora vaguely.

  Clara gave her a bright glance.

  "But you weren't at home to him."

  "I'm not at home to any one this morning," Flora answered evasively,feeling the probe of Clara's eyes. "I'm feeling ill. I'm not going outthis evening either. I think I'll ring up Burlingame and tell Harry." Itwas in her mind that she might manage to make him stay with her whileClara went on to the reception.

  "Burlingame! Harry!" Clara echoed in surprise. "Why, he's in town. I sawhim just now as I was coming up."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yes. He was walking up Clay from Kearney. I was in the car."

  "Why that--that is--" Flora stammered in her surprise. "Then somethingmust have kept him," she altered her sentence quickly. But though thisseemed the probable explanation she did not believe it. Harry walkingtoward Chinatown, when he had told her distinctly he would be inBurlingame! She thought of the goldsmith shop and there returned to herthe memory of how Harry and the blue-eyed Chinaman had looked when shehad turned from the window and seen them standing together in the backof the shop.

  "You do look ill," Clara remarked. "Why don't you stay in bed, and nottry to see any one?"

  Flora murmured that that was her intention, but she was far fromspeaking the truth. She only waited to make sure of Clara's being in herown rooms to get out of the house and telephone to Harry.

  It was not far to the nearest booth, a block or two down thecross-street. She rang, first, the office. The word came back promptlyin his partner's voice. He had gone to Burlingame by the early train. Itwas the same at the club. He must be in town, then, on secret business.She left the apothecary's and, with serious face, walked on down thestreet, away from her house. She was thinking that now she knew Harryhad lied to her. And it was the second time. But perhaps it was justbecause he thought her innocent that he was keeping her so in the dark.Suppose she should tell him flatly what she had found out about himto-day?

  She walked rapidly, in her excitement, turning the troubling questionover in her mind. She did not realize how far she had gone until somegirl she knew, passing and nodding to her, called her out of herreverie. She was almost in front of the University Club. A few blocksmore and she would be in the shopping district. She hesitated, thendecided that it would be better to walk a little further and take across-town car.

  A group of men was leaving the club. Two lingered on the steps, theother coming quickly out. At sight of him, she averted her face, and,hurrying, turned the corner and walked down a block. Her heart wasbeating rapidly. What if he had seen her! She looked about--there was nocab in sight--the best thing to do was to slip into one of the crowdedshops, full of women, and wait until the danger had passed. Once insidethe door of the nearest, she felt herself, with relief, only one of ahorde of pricers, lookers and buyers. She felt as if she had lost heridentity. She went to the nearest counter and asked for veils. Partlyconcealed behind the bulk of the woman next her, she kept her eye on thedoor. She saw Kerr come in. How absurd to think that she could escapehim! She turned her back and waited a moment or two, still hoping hemight pass her by. Then, she heard his voice behind her:

  "Well, this is luck!"

  She was conscious of giving him a limp hand. He sat down on the vacantstool next her, laughing.

  "You are a most remarkably fast walker," he observed.

  "I had to buy a veil," Flora murmured.

  "Has it taken you all the morning?"

  She could see she had not fooled him.

  "I had a great many other things to do." She was resolved not to admitanything.

  "No doubt, but I wanted to see you very much last night, and again thismorning. I may see you this evening, perhaps?" He was grave now. She sawthat he awaited her answer in anxiety.

  "But--" she hesitated just a moment too long before she added, "I'mgoing out this evening."

  She started nervously to rise.

  "Wait," he said in a voice that was audible to the shop-girl, "yourpackage has not come."

  She looked at him helplessly, so attractive and so inimical to her. Heswung around, back to the counter, and lowered his voice. "Did you knowI called
upon you yesterday morning, also?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  "Mr. Cressy and I waited for you together. Did he mention it to you?"

  "No." Her lips let the word out slowly.

  "That's a reticent friend of yours!" The exclamation, and the truth ofit, put her on her guard.

  "I can't discuss him with you," she said coldly.

  "Yet no doubt you have discussed me with him?"

  "Never!"

  "You haven't told him anything?" The incredulity, the amazement of hisface put before her, for the first time, how extraordinary her conductmust seem. What could he think of her? What construction would he putupon it? She blushed, neck to forehead, and her voice was scarcelyaudible as she answered "No."

  But at that small word his whole mood warmed to her. "Why, then," hebegan eagerly, "if Cressy doesn't know--"

  "Oh, but he--" Flora stopped in terror of herself. "I can't talk of him,I must not. Don't ask me!" she implored, "and please, please don't cometo my house again!"

  He gave his head a puzzled, impatient shake. "Then where _am_ I to seeyou?"

  "In a few days--perhaps to-morrow--I will let you know." She rose. Shehad her package now. She was getting back her courage. There was nofurther way of keeping her.

  But he followed her closely through the crowd to the door. "Yes," hesaid quickly under his breath, "in a few days, perhaps to-morrow, assoon as you get rid of it, you won't mind meeting me! What are youafraid of? Surely not me?"

  She was, but hotly denied it.

  "I am not afraid of you. I am afraid of them!"

  "Of them!" He peered at her. "What are you talking about now?"

  Ah, she had said too much! She bit her lip. They had reached the corner,and the gliding cable car was approaching. She turned to him with a lastappeal.

  "Don't ask me anything! Don't come with me! Don't follow me!"

  Not until she was safely inside the car did she dare look back at him.He was still on the corner, and he raised his hat and smiled soreassuringly that she was half-way home before she realized that, inspite of all she had urged upon him, he had not committed himself to anypromise. And yet, she thought in dismay, he had almost made her giveaway Harry's confidence. She was seeing more and more clearly that thiswas the danger of meeting him. He always got something out of her andnever, by chance, gave her anything in return. If he should seek herto-night she dared not be at home! Any place would be safer than her ownhouse. It would be better to fulfil her engagement and go to thereception with Clara and Harry. That was a house Kerr did not know.

  It was awkward to have to announce this sudden change of plan after herpretenses of the morning, but of late she had lived too constantly withdanger for Clara's lifted eyebrows to daunt her. The mere trivial act ofbeing dressed each day was fraught with danger. To get the sapphire offher person before Marrika should appear; to put it back somehow afterMarrika had done; to shift it from one place to another as she woregowns cut high or low--and every moment in fear lest she be discoveredin the act! This was her daily manoeuver. To-night she clasped thechain around her waist beneath her petticoats. But Marrika's sensitivefingers, smoothing over, for the last time, the close-fitting front ofthe gown, felt the sapphire, fumbled with it, and tried to adjust itlike a button.

  "That is all right," Flora said quickly. "Nothing shows." Was it alwaysto make itself known, she thought uneasily, no matter how it was hid?

  She was ready early, in the hope that Harry might come, as he had beenwont to do, a little before the appointed hour. But he turned up withouta moment to spare. Clara was down-stairs in her cloak when he appeared.There was no chance for a word at dinner. But if she could not manage itlater in the wider field of the reception, why, then she deserved tofail in everything.

  But she found, upon their arrival that even this was going to be hard tobring about. For she was immediately pounced upon--first, by EllaBuller.

  "Why, Flora," at the top of her voice, "where have you been all thesedays!" Then in a hot whisper, "Did you speak to her? It hasn't done onebit of good."

  "I think you are mistaken," Flora murmured. "But be careful, and let meknow--" She had only time for that broken sentence before she wassurrounded; and other voices took up the chorus.

  She was getting to be a perfect hermit.

  She was forgetting all her old friends.

  And a less kindly voice in the background added, "Yes, for new ones."

  She realized with some alarm that though she had forgotten her public,it had kept its eye on her. She answered, laughing, that she was keepingLent early, and allowed herself to be drifted about through the crowdby more or less entertaining people, now and then getting glimpses ofHarry, tracking him by his burnished brown head, waiting her opportunityto get him cornered. At last she saw him making for the smoking-room.Connecting this with the drawing-room where she stood was a small redlounging-room, walls, floor and furniture all covered with crimsonvelvet. It had a third door which communicated indirectly with thereception-rooms, by means of a little hall. She was near that hall, andit would be the work of a moment to slip by way of it into the red roomand stop Harry on his way through. She had not played at such a gamesince, as a child, she had jumped out on people from dark closets, andHarry was as much astonished as she could remember they had been. He wascutting the end of a cigar and he all but dropped it.

  "What in the world are you doing here alone?" He spoke peevishly. "Idon't see how a crowd of men can leave such a bundle of fascination atlarge!"

  She made him a low courtesy and said she was preventing him from doingso.

  "It's very good of you, and you are very pretty, Flora," he admittedwith a grudging smile, "but I've got to see a man in there." His eyeswent to the door of the smoking-room whence was audible a discussion ofvoices, and among them Judge Buller's basso. She was between Harry andthe door. Laughingly, he made as if to put her aside, when the doorthrough which she had entered opened again sharply; and Kerr came in.

  "Forgive me. I followed you," he began. Then he saw Harry."I--ha--ha--I've been hunting for you, Cressy, all the evening!"

  "FORGIVE ME, I FOLLOWED YOU."]

  Harry accepted the statement with a cynical smile. It was too evidentlynot for him Kerr had been hunting, and after the first stammer ofembarrassment, the Englishman made no attempt to conceal his realintentions. His words merely served him as an excuse not to retreat.

  "This is a good place to sit," he said, pushing forward a chair forFlora. She sank into it, wondering weakly what daring or what danger hadbrought him into a house where he was not known, to seek her. He satdown in the compartment of a double settee near her. Harry still stoodwith a dubious smile on his face. The look the two men exchangedappeared to her a prolongment of their earnest interrogation in thepicture gallery; but this time it struck her that both carried it offless well. Harry, especially, bore it badly.

  "Did you say you were looking for me?" he remarked. "Well, Buller's beenlooking for _you_. He wants to know about some Englishman that they'retrying to put up at the club."

  "How's that? Oh, yes! I remember." Kerr shrugged. "Never heard of him athome, and can't vouch for every fellow who comes along, just because heis English."

  "Quite so!" said Harry, with a straight look at Kerr that made Florauncomfortable.

  "But Judge Buller has already vouched for that man," she said quickly,"so he must be all right."

  Kerr inclined his head to her with a smile.

  "Buller is easily taken in," said Harry calmly. Under the direct, theinsolent meaning of his look Flora felt her face grow hot--her handscold. Harry could sit there taunting this man, hitting him over anotherman's back, and Kerr could not resent it. He could only sit--his head alittle canted forward--looking at Harry with the traces of a dry smileupon his lips.

  She thought the next moment everything would be declared. She sprang up,and, with an impulse for rescue, went to the door of the smoking-room."Judge Buller," she called.

  There was a sudd
en cessation of talk; a movement of forms dimly seen inthe thick blue element; and then through wreaths of smoke, the judge'sface dawned upon her like a sun through fog.

  "Well, well, Miss Flora," he wanted to know, "to what bad action ofmine do I owe this good fortune?"

  She retreated, beckoning him to the middle of the room. "You owe it tothe bad action of another," she said gaily. "Your friends are beingslandered."

  Harry made a movement as if he would have stopped her, and theexpression of his face, in its alarm, was comic. But she paid no heed.She laid her hand on Harry's arm. "Mr. Kerr is just about to accuse usof being impostors," she announced. She had robbed the situation of itsperil by gaily turning it exactly inside out.

  The judge blinked, puzzled at this extraordinary statement. Harry wasdisconcerted; but Kerr showed an astonishment that amazed her--a concernthat she could not understand. He stared at her. Then he laughed rathershakily as he turned to her with a mock gallant bow.

  "All women impose upon us, madam. And as for Mr. Cressy"--he fixed Harrywith a look--"I could not accuse him of being an impostor since we havemet in the sacred limits of of St. James'."

  The two glances that crossed before Flora's watchful eyes were keen asthrust and parry of rapiers. Harry bowed stiffly.

  "I believe, for a fact, we did _not_ meet, but I think I saw you thereonce--at some Embassy ball."

  The words rang, to Flora's ears, as if they had been shouted from thehousetops. In the speaking pause that followed there was audible anunknown hortatory voice from the smoking-room.

  "I tell you it's a damn-fool way to manage it! What's the good of twentythousand dollars' reward?" Flora clutched nervously at the back of herchair. She seemed to see the danger of discovery piling up above Kerrlike a mountain.

  The judge chuckled. "You see what you saved me from. They've been at ithammer and tongs all the evening. Every man in town has his idea onthat subject."

  "For instance, what is that one?" Kerr's casual voice was in contrast tohis guarded eyes.

  The judge looked pleased. "That one? Why, that's my own--was, at least,half an hour ago. You see, about that twenty-thousand-dollarproposition--" They moved nearer him. They stood, the four, around thered velvet-covered table, like people waiting to be served. "The troubleis right here," said the judge, emphasizing with blunt forefinger. "Thecrook has a pal. That's probable, isn't it?"

  Harry nodded. Flora felt Kerr's eyes upon her, but she could not look athim.

  "And we see the thing is at a deadlock, don't we? Well, now," the judgewent on triumphantly, "we know if any one person had the whole ring itwould be turned in by this time. That is the weak spot in the rewardpolicy. They didn't reckon on the thing's being split."

  "Split? No, really, do you think that possible?" Kerr inquired, andFlora caught a glimmer of irony in his voice.

  "Well, can you see one of those chaps trusting the other with more thanhalf of it?" The judge was scornful. "And a fellow needs a whole ring ifhe is after a reward." He rolled his head waggishly. "Oh, I could havebeen a crook myself!" he chuckled, but his was the only smiling face inthe party.

  For Kerr's was pale, schooled to a rigid self-control.

  And Harry's was crimson and swollen, as if with a sudden rush of blood.His twitching hands, his sullen eyes, responded to Judge Buller's lastword as if it had been an accusation.

  "It makes me damned sick, the way you fellows talk--as if it was theeasiest thing in the world to--" He broke off. It was such a tone,loose, harsh and uncontrolled, as made Flora shrink.

  As if he sensed that movement in her, he turned upon her furiously.

  "Well, are we going to stand here all night?" He took her by the arm.

  She felt as if he had struck her. Buller was staring at him, but Kerrhad opened the door through which she had entered, and now, turning hisback upon Harry, silently motioned her out.

  She had a moment's fear that Harry's grasp, even then, wouldn't let go.Indeed, for a moment he stood clutching her, as if, now that his ragehad spent itself, she was the one thing he could hold to. Then she felthis fingers loosen. He stood there alone, looking, with his great bulk,and his great strength, and his abashed bewilderment, rather pathetic.

  But that aspect reached her dimly, for the fear of him was uppermost.Her arm still burned where he had grasped it. She moved away from himtoward the door Kerr had opened for her. She passed from the light ofthe crimson room into the dark of the passage. Some one followed her andclosed the door. Some one caught step with her. It was Kerr. He benthis dark head to speak low.

  "I don't know why you did it, you quixotic child, but you must notexpose yourself in this way, for any reason whatsoever."

  The light of the crowded rooms burst upon them again.

  "Oh," she turned to him beseechingly, "can't you get me away?"

  "Surely." His manner was as if nothing had happened. His smile wasreassuring. "I'll call your carriage, and find Mrs. Britton."

  When Flora came down from the dressing-room she found Clara already inthe carriage, and Kerr mounting guard in the hall. As he handed her in,Clara leaned forward.

  "Where is Mr. Cressy?" she inquired.

  "He sent his apologies," Kerr explained. "He is not able to get awayjust now."

  Clara could not control a look of astonishment. As the carriage began tomove and Kerr's face disappeared from the square of the window, sheturned to Flora.

  "Have you and Harry quarreled over that man?"

  Flora's voice was low. "No. But Harry--Harry--" she stammered, hardlyknowing how to put it, then put it most truly: "Harry is not quitehimself to-night."

  Flora lay back in the carriage. She was dimly aware of Clara's presencebeside her, but for the moment Clara had ceased to be a factor. Theshape that filled all the foreground of her thought was Harry. He loomedalarming to her imagination--all the more so since, for the moment, hehad seemed to lose his grip. That was another thing she could not quiteunderstand. That burst of violent irritation following, as it had, JudgeBuller's words! If Kerr had been the speaker it would have been naturalenough, since all through this interview Harry's evident antagonism hadseemed strained to the snapping point.

  But poor Judge Buller had been harmless enough. He had been merelytheorizing. But--wait! She made so sharp a movement that Clara lookedat her. The judge's theory might be close to facts that Harry wascognizant of.

  For herself she had had no way of finding out how the sapphire had gotadrift. But hadn't Harry? Hadn't he followed up that singular scene withthe blue-eyed Chinaman by other visits to the goldsmith's shop? Why,yesterday, when he was supposed to be in Burlingame, Clara had seen himin Chinatown. The idea burst upon her then. Harry was after the wholering. He counted the part she held already his, and for the rest he wasgroping in Chinatown; he was trying to reach it through theimperturbable little goldsmith. But he had not reached it yet--and shecould read his irritation at his failure in his violent outburst whenJudge Buller so innocently flung the difficulties in his face. She knewas much now as she could bear. If Harry did not suspect Kerr, it wouldbe strange. But--Harry waiting to make sure of a reward before heunmasked a thief! It was an ugly thought!

  And would he wait for the rest now--now that the situation was sogalling to him? Might not he just decide to take the sapphire, and withthe evidence of that, risk his putting his hand on the "Idol" when hegrasped the thief?

  The carriage was stopping. Clara was making ready to get out. She bracedherself to face Clara, in the light, with a casual exterior--but whenshe had reached her own rooms she sank in a heap in the chair before herwriting-table, and laid her head upon the table between her arms.

  In her wretchedness she found herself turning to Kerr. How stoically hehad endured it all, though it must have borne on him most heavily! Howkind he had been to her! He had not even spoken of himself, though hemust have known the shadows were closing over his head. Any moment hemight be enshrouded. If it came to a choice between having him taken andgiving him the blue jewe
l, she wondered which she would do.

  In the gray hours of the morning she wrote him. She dared not put theperils into words, but she implied them. She vaguely threatened; andshe implored him to go, avoiding them all, herself more than any; and,quaking at the possibility that he might, after all, overcome _her_, shedeclared that before he went she would not see him again. She closedwith the forbidding statement that whether he stayed or went, at the endof three days she would make a sure disposal of the ring. She put allthis in reckless black and white and sent it by the hand of Shima. Thenshe waited. She waited, in her little isolation, with the sapphirealways hung about her neck, waited with what anticipation of marvelousresults--avowals, ideal farewells, or possibly some incredibletransformation of the grim face of the business. And the answer wassilence.