th might leak out."

Saton rose from his place, and going once more to the sideboard, took
up and lit a long Russian cigarette. He returned with the box, and
laid it before Rachael.

"If the truth should leak out," he said, "that would be the end of us
in this country. We have had one escape. I do not mean to find myself
in the prisoner's dock a second time."

"There is no fear of that," she answered. "The whole business is so
arranged that neither you nor I would be connected with it. Besides,
we have rearranged things. We are within the pale of the law now. To
return to what I was saying about this girl."

"There is no hurry," he said. "Marriage does not interest me."

"Marriage for its own sake, perhaps, no," she answered, "and yet money
you must have. No man has ever succeeded in any great work without it.
If a pauper proclaims a theory, he is laughed to scorn. He is called a
charlatan and an impostor. If a rich man speaks of the same thing, his
words are listened to as one who stirs the world. There is a change in
you, Bertrand," she continued. "You have avoided this girl lately. You
have avoided, even, your work. What is it?"

"Who knows?" he answered, lightly. "The weather, perhaps--the
moon--one's humor. I will walk this morning in Kensington Gardens.
Perhaps I shall see Lois."

He left the house half-an-hour later, after dictating some letters to
a newly installed secretary. He accepted a carefully brushed hat from
a well-trained and perfectly respectful servant, who placed also in
his hands his stick and gloves. He descended a few immaculate steps
and turned westward, frowning thoughtfully. The matter with him! He
knew well enough. He had taken his fate into his hands, played his
cards boldly enough, but Fate was beginning to get her own back.

He turned not toward Kensington Gardens, but towards Cadogan Street.
He rang the bell at one of the most pretentious houses, and asked for
Lady Marrabel. The butler was doubtful whether she would be inclined
to receive anyone at that hour. He was shown into a morning-room and
kept waiting for some time. Then she came in, serene as usual, with a
faint note of inquiry in her upraised eyebrows and the tone of her
voice as she welcomed him.

"I must apologize," he began, a little nervously. "I have no right to
come at such an hour. I heard this morning that Max Naudheim will be
in London before the end of the week, and I wondered whether you would
care to meet hi