ore shrugged his shoulders in contempt, but
vouchsafed no further comment, he continued still more slowly and
deliberately:

"Isn't it strange that just as you were trying to interfere in my
affairs, this key should, so to speak, fall into my hand. Fate plays
some funny little pranks sometimes, eh, Mr. Guardian Angel?"

"What has Fate got to do with it?" queried Andor roughly.

"You don't see it?"

"No."

"Then perhaps you were not aware of the fact," said Bela blandly, as he
toyed with the key, "that papa Goldstein is going off to Kecskemet
to-night."

"Yes," replied Andor slowly, "I did know that, but . . ."

"But you didn't know, perhaps, that pretty Klara likes a little
jollification and a bit of fun sometimes, and that papa Goldstein is a
very strict parent and mightily particular about the proprieties. It is
a way those cursed Jews have, you know."

"Yes!" said Andor again, "I did know that too."

He was speaking in a curious, dazed kind of way now: he suddenly felt as
if the whole world had ceased to be, and as if he was wandering quite
alone in a land of dreams. Before him, far away, was that red misty
veil, and on ahead he could dimly see Bela, with a hideous grin on his
face, brandishing that key, whilst somehow or other the face of Leopold
Hirsch, distorted with passion and with jealousy, appeared to beckon to
him from behind that distant crimson veil.

"Well, you see," continued Bela, in the same suave and unctuous tones
which he had suddenly assumed, "since pretty Klara is fond of
jollification and a bit of fun, and her father is over-particular, why,
that's where this nice little key comes in. For presently papa will be
gone and the house worthily and properly shut up, and the keys in papa
Goldstein's pocket, who will be speeding off to Kecskemet; but with the
help of this little key, which is a duplicate one, I--who am a great
friend of pretty Klara--can just slip into the house quietly for a
comfortable little supper and just a bit of fun; and no one need be any
the wiser, for I shall make no noise and the back door of this house is
well screened from prying eyes. Have you any further suggestion to make,
my fine gentleman from America?"

"Only this, man," said Andor sombrely, "that it is you who are mad--or
drunk."

"Oh! not mad. What harm is there in it? You chose to interfere between
Klara and me, and I only want to show you that I am the master of my own
affairs."

"But it'll get kno