usband's actions, "Young Ed" had taken advantage of
the confusion to slip out of the crowd and escape in his roadster, and
when Alaire arrived at Las Palmas she had found that he was gone,
leaving behind no word as to when he would return. It seemed probable
that he had fled to San Antonio, there to remain until interest in the
Guzman matter had abated. If Ed was relieved to escape the immediate
consequences of his connection with the affair, his wife was no less
thankful for his absence, since it left her free to think and to plan.
Their relations were becoming constantly more difficult; she realized
that it was impossible for her to go on in this way much longer. Before
leaving Ed had again rifled the safe, thus disregarding for a second
time his explicit agreement with his wife. Of course, he was welcome to
whatever money he needed, even in excess of his allowance; but his act
showed his weak sense of honor and strengthened Alaire's conviction
that he was in every way rapidly deteriorating. As yet she could not
believe him really wicked at heart--he had many qualities which were
above the average--nor could she convince herself that he had been
criminally involved in Tad Lewis's schemes. And yet, what other
explanation could there be? Ed's behavior had been extraordinary; his
evident terror at news of Dave Law's expedition, his conversation with
Tad Lewis over the telephone, his subsequent actions at the river, all
seemed to indicate that he had some vital interest in maintaining the
mystery of Guzman's death. What could it be?

Suspicions like these were extremely disturbing. In spite of herself
Alaire began to think more seriously about that separation which Ed had
so frequently offered her. Her whole nature, it is true, recoiled at
the thought of divorce; it was a thing utterly repugnant to her
sentiment and her creed--a thing that stood for notoriety, gossip,
scandal. Deep in her heart she felt that divorce was wicked, for
marriage to her had always meant a sacred and unbreakable bond. And yet
there seemed to be no alternative. She wished Ed would go away--leave
her quietly and for ever, so that she might live out her empty life in
seclusion--but that, of course, he would never do.

Such longings were not strangers to Alaire; they were old and
persistent enemies; but of late the prospect of a loveless, childless
future was growing more and more unbearable. Even her day dreams failed
to give their customary relie