to try, gradually, to depend less
upon drugs, so that if the worst should happen you would have a chance."

Rita stood up and faced him, biting her lip.

"Lucy," she said, "do you mean that Kazmah--"

"I mean that anything might happen, Rita. After all, we do possess a
police service in London, and one day there might be an accident. Kazmah
has certain influence, but it may be withdrawn. Rita, won't you try?"

She was watching him closely, and now the pupils of her beautiful eyes
became dilated.

"You know something," she said slowly, "which you are keeping from me."

He laughed and turned aside.

"I know that I am compelled to leave England again, Rita, for a time;
and I should be a happier man if I knew that you were not so utterly
dependent upon Kazmah."

"Oh, Lucy, are you going away again?"

"I must. But I shall not be absent long, I hope."

Rita sank down upon the settee from which she had risen, and was silent
for some time; then:

"I will try, Lucy," she promised. "I will go to Margaret Halley, as she
is always asking me to do."

"Good girl," said Pyne quietly. "It is just a question of making the
effort, Rita. You will succeed, with Margaret's help."

A short time later Sir Lucien left England, but throughout the last week
that he remained in London Rita spent a great part of every day in his
company. She had latterly begun to experience an odd kind of remorse
for her treatment of the inscrutably reserved baronet. His earlier
intentions she had not forgotten, but she had long ago forgiven them,
and now she often felt sorry for this man whom she had deliberately used
as a stepping-stone to fortune.

Gray was quite unable to conceal his jealousy. He seemed to think that
he had a proprietary right to Mrs. Monte Irvin's society, and during
the week preceding Sir Lucien's departure Gray came perilously near to
making himself ridiculous on more than one occasion.

One night, on leaving a theatre, Rita suggested to Pyne that they should
proceed to a supper club for an hour. "It will be like old times," she
said.

"But your husband is expecting you," protested Sir Lucien.

"Let's ring him up and ask him to join us. He won't, but he cannot very
well object then."

As a result they presently found themselves descending a broad carpeted
stairway. From the rooms below arose the strains of an American melody.
Dancing was in progress, or, rather, one of those orgiastic ceremonies
which passed for danci