a little, thankful sigh the girl secreted the thing in the bosom of
her dress and prepared to rise.

Behind her a board creaked and the doorlatch clicked. Still
sitting--heart in her mouth, breath at a standstill, blood chilling with
fright--she turned in time to see the door open and the face and figure
of her father as he stood looking down at her, his eyes blinking in the
glare of light that painted a gleam along the polished barrel of the
weapon in his hand.

XV

THE ENEMY'S HAND

In spite of the somewhat abrupt and cavalier fashion in which Staff had
parted from Alison at the St. Simon, he was obliged to meet her again
that afternoon at the offices of Jules Max, to discuss and select the
cast for _A Single Woman_. The memory which each retained of their
earlier meeting naturally rankled, and the amenities suffered
proportionately. In justice to Staff it must be set down that he wasn't
the aggressor; his contract with Max stipulated that he should have the
deciding word in the selection of the cast--aside from the leading role,
of course--and when Alison chose, as she invariably did, to try to usurp
that function, the author merely stood calmly and with imperturbable
courtesy upon his rights. In consequence, it was Alison who made the
conference so stormy a one that Max more than once threatened to tear
his hair, and as a matter of fact did make futile grabs at the meagre
fringe surrounding his bald spot. So the meeting inevitably ended in an
armed truce, with no business accomplished: Staff offering to release
Max from his contract to produce, the manager frantically begging him to
do nothing of the sort, and Alison making vague but disquieting remarks
about her inclination to "rest." ...

Staff dined alone, with disgust of his trade for a sauce to his food.
And, being a man--which is as much as to say, a creature without much
real understanding of his own private emotional existence--he wagged his
head in solemn amazement because he had once thought he could love a
woman like that.

Now Eleanor Searle was a different sort of a girl altogether....

Not that he had any right to think of her in that light; only, Alison
had chosen to seem jealous of the girl. Heaven alone (he called it
honestly to witness) knew why....

Not that _he_ cared whether Alison were jealous or not....

But he was surprised at his solicitude for Miss Searle--now that Alison
had made him think of her. He was really more anx