tted. "What became of the child?"

"One of her father's relations turned up after all and took care of
her," Aynesworth said. "Wingrave knew nothing about that, though. Then
on the voyage across the Atlantic, there was a silly, pretty little
woman on board who was piqued by Wingrave's indifference and tried to
flirt with him. In a few days she was his slave. She was going home to
her husband, and you would have thought that any decent fellow would
have told her that she was a little fool, and let her go. But not
Wingrave! She was landing with him at New York, but someone amongst the
passengers, who guessed what was up, sent a Marconigram to her husband,
and he met us at the landing stage."

"Nothing came of that, then?"

"No, but it wasn't Wingrave's fault. Then he began dealing with
some shares in a mine--THE mine, you know. They were supposed to be
worthless, and one boy, who was a little young to the game, sold him too
many. Wingrave was bleeding these brokers for hundreds of thousands of
dollars, and the boy came and asked to be let off by paying his whole
fortune to escape being hammered. Wingrave refused. I believe if the boy
hadn't just been married, he'd have blown his brains out!"

Lovell laughed.

"I don't envy you your job," he remarked. "Is there nothing to set down
on the credit side of the ledger?"

"Not much," Aynesworth answered. "He is a fine sportsman, and he
saved my life in the Rockies, which makes me feel a bit uncomfortable
sometimes. He has a sense of justice, for he heard of this mine from a
man in prison, and he has kept accounts showing the fellow's share down
to the last halfpenny. But I have never yet known him to speak a kindly
word or do a kindly deed. He seems intent upon carrying out to the
letter his own principles--to make as many people as possible suffer for
his own broken life. Now he is back here, a millionaire, with immense
power for good or for evil, I am almost afraid of him. I wouldn't be
Lady Ruth or her husband for something."

Lovell smoked thoughtfully for a time.

"Wingrave was always a little odd," he remarked, "but I never thought
that he was a bad chap."

"Go and see him now!" Aynesworth said. "Tell me if you think he wears a
mask or whether he is indeed what he seems."

The hall porter entered the room and addressed Aynesworth.

"Gentleman called for you, sir," he announced.

"It is Wingrave," Aynesworth declared. "Come and speak to him!"

They descended