ou see, Ambrose, it was
she who sent for Gertrude."

"Susan!"

"Susan. Telegraphed her--of all things!--either to come home to you or
set you free. The implication's transparent. Especially as I had thought
it my duty to warn Gertrude in advance--and as Mr. Phar sent her, by
messenger, a vague but very disturbing note this morning."

"Maltby?"

"Yes. His note was delivered not five minutes ahead of Susan's wire.
Gertrude caught the next train. And there you are."

Well, at least I began to see now, dimly, where Maltby was, where Susan
was, where we all were--except, possibly Gertrude. Putting enormous
constraint on my leaping nerves, I subdued every trace of anger.

"Two more questions, Lucette. Do you believe me when I say, with all the
sincerity I'm capable of, that Susan is slandered by these suspicions?"

"Really," answered Lucette, with a little worried frown, as if anxiously
balancing alternatives, "I'm not, am I, in a position to judge?"

I swallowed hard. "All right," I managed to say coldly. "Then I have
placed you. You're not an onlooker--you're an open foe."

"And the second question, Ambrose?"

"What, precisely, does Gertrude want from me?"

"I'm not, am I, in a position to judge?" repeated Lucette. "But one
supposes it depends a little on what you're expecting--from her?"

"All I humbly plead for," said I, "is a chance to see Gertrude alone and
talk things over."

"Don't you mean talk _her_ over?" suggested Lucette. "And aren't you,"
she murmured, "forgetting the last straw?"

VII

My confusion of mind, my consternation, as I left the Egyptian tomb, was
pitiable. One thing, one only, I saw with distinctness: The being I
loved best was to be harried and smirched, an innocent victim of the
folly and malignity of others.

"Never," I muttered, "Never--never--never!"

This was all very grim and virile; yet I knew that I could grit my teeth
and mutter Never! from now till the moon blossomed, without in any way
affecting the wretched situation. Words, emotional contortions,
attitudes--would not help Susan; something sensible must be done--the
sooner the better. Something sensible and decisive--but what? There were
so many factors involved, human, incalculable factors; my thought
staggered among them, fumbling like a drunken man for the one right door
that must be found and opened with the one right key. It was no use; I
should never be able to manage it alone. To whom could I appeal? Susan,