Lagrange because I wanted the fun of
surprising you." As he stood looking at her so gravely, she put out her
hand impulsively to his arm. "What is it, oh, what is it? How have I done
wrong?"

"You have done no wrong, my dear girl," he answered "It is only that--"

He was interrupted by the cold, clear voice of Mrs. Taine, who had entered
the room, unnoticed by them. "I see you are going, Miss Andres.
Good-night. I will mail you a check to-morrow. Your music was very
satisfactory. An automobile is waiting to take you home. Good night."

Before Aaron King could speak, the girl was gone.

"Mr. Lagrange and I were just about to go," said the artist, as the woman
faced him. "I hope Mr. Taine has not suffered severely from the excitement
of the evening?"

The woman's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were bright with feverish
excitement. Going close to him, she said in a low, hurried tone, "No, no,
you must not go. Mr. Taine is all right in his room. Every one else is
having a good time. You must not go. Come, I have had no opportunity, at
all, to have you to myself for a single moment. Come, I--"

As she had interrupted Aaron King's reply to Sibyl Andres, the cool,
sarcastic tones of Conrad Lagrange's deep voice interrupted her. "Mrs.
Taine, they are hunting for you all over the house. Your husband is
calling for you. I'm sure that Mr. King will excuse you, under the
circumstances."

Chapter XXX

In the Same Hour

In a splendid chamber, surrounded by every comfort and luxury that dollars
could buy, and attended by liveried servants, Mr. Taine was dying.

The physician who met Mrs. Taine at the door, answered her look of inquiry
with; "Your husband is very near the end, madam." Beside the bed, sat
Louise, wringing her hands and moaning. James Rutlidge stood near. Without
speaking, Mrs. Taine went forward.

The doctor, bending over his patient, with his fingers upon the
skeleton-like wrist, said, "Mr. Taine, Mr. Taine, your wife is here."

In response, the eyes, deep sunken under the wrinkled brow, opened; the
loosely hanging, sensual lips quivered.

The physician spoke again; "Your wife is here, Mr. Taine."

A sudden gleam of light flared up in the glazed eyes. The doctor could
have sworn that the lips were twisted into a shadow of a ghastly, mocking
smile. As if summoning, by a supreme effort of his will, from some
unguessed depths of his being, the last remnant of his remaining strength,
the man l