loated across his
mental vision, of Elsa whose pure white hand seemed to dissipate that
ugly red mist with all the hideous thoughts which it brought in its
trail. "You ought to treat her well, man," he cried in the agony of his
soul, "you've got to treat her well."

The other looked him up and down like a man does an enemy whom he
believes to be powerless to do him any harm. Then he said with a sneer
through which, however, now there was apparent an undercurrent of
boiling wrath:

"I'll treat her just as I choose, and you, my friend, had best in the
future try to attend to your own business."

But Andor, obsessed by the one idea, feeling his own helplessness in the
matter, would not let the matter drop.

"How you can look at another woman," he said sombrely, "while Elsa is
near you I cannot imagine."

He looked round him vaguely, as if he wanted all the dumb, inanimate
things around him to bear witness to this monstrous idea: Elsa flouted
for another woman! Elsa! the most beautiful woman on God's earth, the
purest, the best--flouted! And for whom? for what?--other
girls--women--who were not worthy to walk in the same street as Elsa!
The thought made Andor giddy, his glance became more wandering, less
comprehending . . . that awful red mist was once more blurring his
vision.

And as he looked round him--ununderstanding and wretched--his glance
fell upon the key which he himself had placed upon the brass tray a few
moments ago; and the key brought back to his mind the recollection of
Klara the Jewess, her domination over Bela, her triumph over Elsa, and
also the terrible plight in which she had found herself when she had
begged Andor for friendly help, and given him in exchange the solemn
promise which he had exacted from her.

This recollection eased somewhat the heavy burden of his anxiety, and
there was quite a look of triumph in his eyes when he once more turned
to Bela.

"Well!" he said, "there's one thing certain, and that is that Elsa won't
have to suffer again from the insolence of that Jewess. I have cut the
ground from under your feet in that direction, my friend."

"Indeed!" retorted Bela airily. "How did you manage to do that?"

"I rendered her a service this afternoon--she was in serious trouble and
asked me to help her."

"Oh?--and may I ask the nature of the trouble--and of the service?"
sneered the other.

"Never mind about the nature of the service. I did help Klara in her
trouble, and in