n her lately?"

"Not for a week or more, Ray."

"I saw her yesterday."

"And she," anxiously; "did she see you, Ray?"

"No, thank God! she was driving with her mother, and, Con.," his voice
broke and he turned his face away; "I wish you would go to her."

"Why, Ray?"

"Because--oh, you should have seen her face. She is suffering horribly;
she is dying by inches."

CHAPTER XXIII.

FATHER AND SON.

At early morn on the next day, Jasper Lamotte and his son, Frank, were
seated together in the dining-room of Mapleton.

Jasper Lamotte was hurriedly eating a bountiful and appetizing lunch,
and washing it down with plenty of light claret; and Frank was seated
near the table, smoking a strong segar, and giving an attentive ear to
the words of his sire.

"This is the first time that we have got the lead on Burrill," said the
elder Lamotte, "and in some way it must be made to count. Drunk or
sober, heretofore, he has looked after his interests too closely to
serve ours."

"The devil's got into Burrill," replied Frank, bending forward to knock
the ashes from his black segar; "and into the rest of the family too, I
should say; Evan has been bad enough any time within the memory of man,
but look at him now. Why, he has not been sober for ten days."

"Well, he is sober this morning."

"Really, have you seen him?"

"Yes. I went to his room to ask him some questions about Burrill. I
found him white as a cloth, and quite as limp; he had overdone himself
at his last carouse; is as sick as a dog, and on the verge of delirium
tremens if a man ever was. He won't get out of his bed for a few days,
if I am a judge; the room was full of medical perfumes, and his mother
was trying to induce him to drink some hot coffee."

"And Burrill?"

"He knew nothing of him, and recommended me to look after my own
vermin."

"He's a sharp tongued cur," said Frank, with a short laugh.

"Next, I went to Sybil's rooms; she was sitting over a roasting fire,
wrapped in a shawl, and shivering from head to foot; she almost shrieked
at the mention of Burrill's name; Sybil looks bad, very bad. When we get
these other matters safely settled, we must do something for the girl."

"And that means----"

"That we must master Burrill. We will soon be in a position to do it, I
hope."

"I hope so," gloomily.

"We must be, or be ruined. You will settle this business with Constance,
at once, to-day?"

"Yes--I suppose so."

"You suppose