e infamous."

Pritchard was unmoved by his companion's warmth.

"Why, that's all right, Mr. Tavernake," he affirmed. "I can quite
understand your feeling like that just at first. You see, I've been
among crime and criminals all my days, and I learn to look for a certain
set of motives when a thing of this sort happens. You've been brought
up among honest folk, who go the straightforward way about life, and
naturally you look at the same matter from a different point of view.
But you and I have got to talk this out. I want you to understand that
those very charming young ladies are not quite the class of young women
whom you know anything about. Mind you, I haven't a word to say against
Miss Beatrice. I dare say she's as straight as they make 'em. But--you
must take another whiskey and soda, Mr. Tavernake. Now, I insist upon
it. Tim, come right over here."

Mr. Pritchard seemed to have forgotten what he was talking about. The
room had been suddenly invaded. The whole of the little supper party,
whose individual members he had pointed out to his companion, came
trooping into the room. They were all apparently on the best of terms
with themselves, and they all seemed to make a point of absolutely
ignoring Pritchard's presence. Elizabeth was the one exception. She was
carrying a tiny Chinese spaniel under one arm; with the fingers of her
other hand she held a tortoise-shell mounted monocle to her eye, and
stared directly at the two men. Presently she came languidly across the
room to them.

"Dear me," she said, "I had no idea that even your wide circle of
acquaintances, Mr. Pritchard, included my friend, Mr. Tavernake."

The two men rose to their feet. Tavernake felt confused and angry. It
was as though he had been playing the traitor in listening, even for a
moment, to these stories.

"Mr. Pritchard introduced himself to me only a few minutes ago," he
declared. "He brought me in here and I have been listening to a lot of
rubbish from him of which I don't believe a single word."

She flashed a wonderful smile upon him.

"Mr. Pritchard is so very censorious," she murmured. "He takes such a
very low view of human nature. After all, though, I suppose we must not
blame him. I think that as men and women we do not exist to him. We are
simply the pegs by means of which he can climb a little higher in the
esteem of his employers."

Pritchard took up his soft hat and stick.

"Mrs. Gardner," he said, "I will confess that