--the number of this phone on the table. You and
Mr. Marvin were sitting here. I was so surprised that I stopped and
listened to Farrell's words. I could see Mr. Marvin listening at the
phone here. Farrell said: 'Mr. Marvin, you are needed at your
office. Come at once.' Then he hung up the receiver and came out,
laughing. He got into the limousine and drove off towards the city.
If he could drive the limousine to the city, could he not drive it to
the McCallan's for you?"

Pauline put her hands to her ears with a protesting cry.

"It isn't true," she whispered. "It is only a scheme of Farrell's to
get an afternoon off."

"It is a scheme of Harry's to keep you from the wedding--for what
purpose only he knows. It is one of many schemes that have held your
life in constant peril. I saw their plan arranged. I saw your brother
hand money to Farrell at the door of the garage and they parted,
laughing."

Pauline's mind whirled. "I won't believe it! I can't; I can't!" she
cried. Doubt and fear and fury mingled in her breast. Weeping
tumultuously, she rushed past Owen and up to her own room.

Two hours later, the struggle over, she called Margaret, who bathed her
hot temples and dressed her for the wedding.

Harry Marvin, in town, tried his best to make good use of the time he
had stolen. But the thought of his well-meant chicanery was heavy on
his mind and it was not unmixed with apprehension. After all, Pauline
might find a way to go to the wedding. Might he not, instead of having
averted a danger, simply have absented himself from the scene of danger
when he was most needed? His nervousness increased. He found himself
incapable of work, and at three o'clock, to the surprise of his clerks,
who had thought his unexpected visit must mean an important conference
of directors, he called a taxicab and started for Westbury. But he had
no intention of going to Castle Marvin unless it was necessary. He
meant to telephone from Westbury and learn whether or not Pauline had
gone to the wedding. If she had not, he would remain away until late.

A few minutes before four o'clock, Farrell, with his pretty wife whom
he had called to share his plot and his holiday, drove up to a rural
telegraph office. They were both laughing as Farrell handed this
message to the operator:

Miss Pauline Marvin, Castle Marvin, Westbury. Blow-out. Can't get back
this evening. George Farre

"You--don't want to say what kind