s spending money on her like water--or she has some game
afoot," I exclaimed.

"You paint her very dark, dear."

"Listen," I said. "She was the wife of Colonel Spencer of the American
Army. He married her, one summer, in Paris, where he had gone to meet
her upon her graduation from a convent school. She was his ward--the
child of the officer who had been his room-mate at the Point. Within
two years Colonel Spencer was dead--broken-hearted; a wealthy
Lieutenant of his regiment had been cashiered and had shot himself
after she had plucked him clean. Since then, she has lived in the odor
of eminent respectability; yet, as I know, always waiting for a
victim--and always having one. Money is her God."

"And, yet, there seems to be nothing in her appearance to suggest such
viciousness," said Dehra.

"Nothing," I said; "and, hence, her danger and her power."

"You knew her when she was Colonel Spencer's wife?"

"I met her at the Post where he commanded--and, later, I saw her in
Washington and New York. She had been in Pittsburgh for several months
before I left--angling for some of the _nouveaux riches_, I fancy.
There was plenty of gossip of her in the Clubs; though I, alone, I
think, know her true history."

"And you did not warn anyone of her?"

"So long as she let my friends alone I cared not what pigeon she
plucked. And the very fact that she knew I was in Pittsburgh, was
enough to make her shy of anyone I would likely care for."

Dehra laughed lightly. "Maybe you were a little bit afraid of her,
yourself," she said.

"Maybe I was," I admitted; "for she has a fascination almost
irresistible--when she choose to exert it."

Dehra looked at me steadily.

I understood.

"Yes," said I, "she has made a try at me; once in New York; again, and
only recently, in Pittsburgh. I escaped both times, thank God."

"She may make another try at you here."

I laughed. "She failed twice in America; she can scarcely win in
Dornlitz when you are beside me."

"But I'm not always beside you," she objected.

"Not physically," I said.

"What chance would a mentality have against that woman's actual
presence?" she asked.

"It would depend entirely on the man, and I am immune--thanks to
Spencer's dead face and your sweet one."

Dehra smiled brightly. "Spencer's dead face is a mentality infinitely
more potent than my living one; but I think the two should hold you.
Yet, I hate that woman yonder. I believe she