had
closed the door behind them, when, suddenly, a commotion on the landing
outside the library aroused both with a start. There was the sound of
voices and people running up the stairs.

"What's that?" exclaimed Helen startled.

Irritated at this unlooked for interruption, the gambler went quickly
toward the landing to investigate. Francois met him at the library
door. In his hand he held an envelope. Holding it out, he said:

"A telegram for Madame!"

"A telegram!" cried Helen, rushing forward. "Good God, I hope Dorothy
is not----"

She tore it open, while Handsome stood by in silence. On the valet's
face there was a triumphant expression, the gratified smile of one
rogue who enjoys the discomfiture of another.

Helen suddenly gave a cry.

"It's as I thought!" she exclaimed. "Dorothy is worse. The doctor
thinks it is scarlet fever. I must go to her at once."

"Go where?" demanded Handsome in consternation.

"To Philadelphia."

"To Philadelphia to-night?" he cried in dismay.

"Yes--to-night," she said firmly.

He protested vigorously.

"Nonsense--you can't go to-night. It will do no good. Wait till the
morning. There are no trains."

Quickly, the valet drew from his pocket a time-table. With a side
glance at his master, he said:

"There is a train at 1.15. If Madame is quick, she will make it. The
car is already waiting downstairs."

Helen seized her fur coat, which the obliging valet had also brought up
from the hall.

"Yes--yes. Throw a few things in my bag. You needn't come, Ken. I'll
telephone you directly I get to Philadelphia. Good-bye!"

The next instant she was gone and the gambler, with a muttered curse,
went to the sideboard and poured out a glass of whiskey, with which to
drown his disappointment.

CHAPTER XVI

For a person so fastidious and particular, so fond of the luxurious and
the elegant, Signor Keralio had certainly selected a queer neighborhood
for his abode. Miles distant from the fashionable centers, far away up
in the Bronx, he occupied the entire top floor of a dingy, broken down
tenement. There were no other people in the house, it being in such
bad repair that no one cared to live in it, and as Keralio paid as much
as all the previous tenants combined and made no requests for
improvements, the landlord was only too glad to leave him undisturbed.
It was situated at the extreme end of a blind alley and, there being no
egress from the street s