eep him off. And he will
reiterate Worthington's plans, cling to me, and run me to earth. He
will take up his Judas trade, and either trap me or else, baffled,
will telegraph Worthington and have me discharged. Why has
he concealed this secret marriage? And, damnation! I cannot ever
meet Jack Witherspoon in private without giving myself away. I must
have some one meet Witherspoon at the steamer and arrange for one
meeting out of town. He must go over to Philadelphia and await me.
I can take an evening train over, and be back here, even if Ferris
hangs on my track. I will go out alone, as if to the theater, and
then turn up belated. Ferris must not know. It is for my life, for
Irma, and for my fortune that I struggle now. My God! Whom can I
trust now, and they have poisoned Alice's mind against me. I see
their damned villainy. Poor Little Sister! Another man's wife now.
She will never know."

In his lover's second sight Randall Clayton had really stumbled
on the artful measure by which the old Croesus had deliberately
shifted Alice Worthington's love for her old-time playmate.

Over his gold-bowed spectacles, Hugh Worthington, the "surviving
partner," had sadly read aloud the details of Randall Clayton's
"New York career." "Forget him, Alice," the old man sternly said.
"He has fallen on evil ways." "And yet you still keep him in your
employ, father?" answered the clear-eyed girl, her wondering glances
gleaming out under a brow of truth.

"Yes, yes!" harshly said the startled old miser. "But it must soon
come to an end. I have delayed the inevitable. But he must go. You
are right; he must go."

And with this colloquy by the far Pacific, the old man dropped
Randall Clayton's soiled memory, while the despoiled heir had turned
at bay to fight for his own.

While Randall Clayton paced his lonely rooms in Manhattan, gazing
sadly on the glowing Danube scene, there was a woman seated in
a shaded corner of the old library of the lonely mansion on Layte
Street. The second drawing-room and library on the ground floor
were a dream of luxury. It had once pleased Mr. Fritz Braun to make
them worthy of a Sultana.

And he stood there now, regarding the graceful figure of one whose
head was hidden in her hands.

The diamonds on the adventurer's bosom flashed fitfully in the
yellow gaslight, as he slowly said, "And now you know all your
part. Will you play it?"

Irma Gluyas sprang to her feet and clutched his arms wi