. "Shall I tell Dr. Millar you are here?"

"Who?" Olga cried, springing up in dread.

"Dr. Millar; the gentleman who was here yesterday," Heinrich said.

"Is he with your master?" Olga cried in fright.

"Yes, madam."

"Oh, God! am I too late? Tell me, did you see Dr. Millar give a letter
to your master?"

"He may have done so, madam. I cannot remember."

Olga walked nervously up and down the room, while Heinrich waited,
sympathizing at her distress. The old man was mystified, but he felt
that Millar was to blame for the grief which his young master's
beautiful visitor showed.

"It may not be too late," Olga cried to herself. Then she said to
Heinrich:

"Please tell Dr. Millar to come down. Do not tell him who is here;
simply say a lady wishes to see him at once."

"Yes, madam."

Heinrich withdrew, leaving Olga, with clenched hands and twitching
features, walking up and down the room. It was thus Millar saw her as he
entered, with his cynical smile, at which she shuddered.

"You are the lady who wished to see me at once?" he asked, with his most
polite bow. "I am honored, madam."

"Yes, I sent for you," Olga said, not knowing how to begin.

"And what may I do for you?"

"Please tell me quickly--I am trembling--did you----"

"Yes, dear lady, I delivered your letter."

Olga sank into her chair and covered her face with her hands, while dry,
tearless sobs shook her body. Millar looked at her unmoved, and as
Heinrich entered with the tea tray he turned coolly to the old servant.

"Put that tea here," he said, indicating a table near Olga. "And the
brandy. Thank you. You may go."

He poured himself a cup of tea and began to sip it, looking the while at
the terrified woman before him.

CHAPTER XIII

It was the moment of Millar's complete triumph, and he gloated over Olga
as she sat there, her trembling hands covering her face, much as a large
cat gloats over a mouse, helpless beneath his paws. He lied deliberately
about the letter, which even then reposed in the inside pocket of his
immaculate frock coat. But he reserved it for a final coup. He knew that
Olga, believing Karl was in possession of the letter, would yield to the
inevitable; that she would again confess her love, even to Karl himself,
and that only a miracle of resolution and faith and strength could save
the two young people from the abyss of dishonor and unhappiness into
which he was about to plunge them.

He sipped his tea i