he first place," Mr. Dowling declared, "I should like you to try to
find out whether any of the plots have really been sold, and, if so, to
whom, and what would be their price. Can you do this during the week?"

"I think so," Tavernake answered.

"Say Monday morning," Mr. Dowling suggested, taking down his hat. "I
shall be playing golf to-morrow and Friday, and of course Saturday.
Monday morning you might let me have a report."

Tavernake went back to his office. After all, then, things were to come
to a crisis a little earlier than he had thought. He knew quite well
that that report, if he made it honestly, and no other idea was likely
to occur to him, would effectually sever his connection with Messrs.
Dowling, Spence & Company.

CHAPTER IX. THE PLOT THICKENS

The man whom Tavernake had left walking up and down the corridor lost
no time in presenting himself once more at the apartments of Mrs. Wenham
Gardner. He entered the suite without ceremony, carefully closing both
doors behind him. It became obvious then that his deportment on the
occasion of his previous appearance had been in the nature of a bluff.
The air with which he looked across the room at the woman who watched
him was furtive; the hand which laid his hat upon the table was shaking;
there was a gleam almost of terror in his eyes. The woman remained
impassive, inscrutable, simply watching him. After a moment or two,
however, she spoke--a single monosyllable.

"Well?"

The man broke down.

"Elizabeth," he exclaimed, "you are too--too ghastly! I can't stand it.
You are unnatural."

She stretched herself upon the couch and turned towards him.

"Unnatural, am I?" she remarked. "And what are you?"

He sank into a chair. He had become very flabby indeed.

"What you are always calling me, I suppose," he muttered,--"a coward.
You have so little consideration, Elizabeth. My health isn't what it
was."

His eyes had wandered longingly toward the cupboard at the further end
of the apartment. The woman upon the couch smiled.

"You may help yourself," she directed carelessly. "Perhaps then you will
be able to tell me why you have come in such a state."

He crossed the room in a few hasty steps, his head and shoulders
disappeared inside the cupboard. There was the sound of the withdrawal
of a cork, the fizz of a sodawater syphon. He returned to his place a
different man.

"You must remember my age, Elizabeth dear," he said, apologetically.
"