s in the boarded floors beneath the Turkey carpets. Plate-glass
windows became hopelessly fixed in their warped and twisted sashes,
and added to the heat; there was a warm incense of pine sap in the
dining-room that flavored all the cuisine. And yet the babble of stocks
and shares went on, and people pricked their ears over their soup to
catch the gossip of the last arrival.

Demorest, loathing it all in his new-found bitterness, was nevertheless
impatient in his inaction, and was eagerly awaiting a telegram from
Stacy; Barker had disappeared since luncheon. Suddenly there was
a commotion on the veranda as a carriage drove up with a handsome,
gray-haired woman. In the buzzing of voices around him Demorest heard
the name of Mrs. Van Loo. In further comments, made in more smothered
accents, he heard that Van Loo had been stopped at Canyon Station, but
that no warrant had yet been issued against him; that it was generally
believed that the bank dared not hold him; that others openly averred
that he had been used as a scapegoat to avert suspicion from higher
guilt. And certainly Mrs. Van Loo's calm, confident air seemed to
corroborate these assertions.

He was still wondering if the strange coincidence which had brought both
mother and son into his own life was not merely a fancy, as far as SHE
was concerned, when a waiter brought a message from Mrs. Van Loo that
she would be glad to see him for a few moments in her room. Last
night he could scarcely have restrained his eagerness to meet her and
elucidate the mystery of the photograph; now he was conscious of an
equally strong revulsion of feeling, and a dull premonition of evil.
However, it was no doubt possible that the man had told her of his
previous inquiries, and she had merely acknowledged them by that
message.

Demorest found Mrs. Van Loo in the private sitting-room where he and his
old partners had supped on the preceding night. She received him with
unmistakable courtesy and even a certain dignity that might or might
not have been assumed. He had no difficulty in recognizing the son's
mechanical politeness in the first, but he was puzzled at the second.

"The manager of this hotel," she began, with a foreigner's precision of
English, "has just told me that you were at present occupying my rooms
at his invitation, but that you wished to see me at once on my return,
and I believe that I was not wrong in apprehending that you preferred
to hear my wishes from my o