when women
put on their best clothes without the desire to please. And, while
Millicent Chyne was actually attiring herself, Jocelyn Gordon, in
another house not so far away, was busy with that beautiful hair of
hers, patting here, drawing out there, pinning, poking, pressing with
all the cunning that her fingers possessed.

When they met a little later in Lady Cantourne's uncompromisingly solid
and old-fashioned drawing-room, one may be certain that nothing was
lost.

"My aunt tells me," began Millicent at once, with that degage treatment
of certain topics hitherto held sacred which obtains among young folks
to-day, "that you know Loango."

"Oh yes--I live there."

"And you know Mr. Meredith?"

"Yes, and Mr. Oscard also."

There was a little pause, while two politely smiling pairs of eyes
probed each other.

"She knows something--how much?" was behind one pair of eyes.

"She cannot find out--I am not afraid of her," behind the other.

And Lady Cantourne, the proverbial looker-on, slowly rubbed her white
hands one over the other.

"Ah, yes," said Millicent unblushingly--that was her strong point,
blushing in the right place, but not in the wrong--"Mr. Oscard is
associated with Mr. Meredith, is he not, in this hare-brained scheme?"

"I believe they are together in it--the Simiacine, you mean?" said
Jocelyn.

"What else could she mean?" reflected the looker-on.

"Yes--the Simiacine. Such a singular name, is it not? I always say they
will ruin themselves suddenly. People always do, don't they? But what do
you think of it? I SHOULD like to know."

"I think they certainly will make a fortune," replied Jocelyn--and
she noted the light in Millicent's eyes with a sudden feeling of
dislike--"unless the risks prove too great and they are forced to
abandon it."

"What risks?" asked Millicent, quite forgetting to modulate her voice.

"Well, of course, the Ogowe river is most horribly unhealthy, and there
are other risks. The natives in the plains surrounding the Simiacine
Plateau are antagonistic. Indeed, the Plateau was surrounded and quite
besieged when we left Africa."

It may have hurt Millicent, but it hurt Jocelyn more--for the smile
had left her hearer's face. She was off her guard, as she had been once
before when Sir John was near, and Millicent's face betrayed something
which Jocelyn saw at once with a sick heart--something that Sir
John knew from the morning when he had seen Millicent open two
let