ady! I can imagine Johnny Tompkin's's ideal?"

"So can I, if you come to that."

"And she must have known his money wasn't his own."

"Why must she?" I asked. "According to what he told Hilary, she didn't."

"I don't believe it," said Mrs. Hilary, with decision.

"Hilary believed it!"

"Oh, Hilary!"

"But, then Hilary knew the girl."

"Hilary knew--! You mean to say Hilary knew--?

"No one better," said I composedly.

Mrs. Hilary rose to her feet. "Who was the creature?" she asked sharply.

"Come," I expostulated, "how would you like it if your young man had
taken to theft and--"

"Oh, nonsense. Tell me her name, please, Mr. Carter."

"Johnny told Hilary that just to see her and talk to her and sit by her
side was 'worth all the money'--but then, to be sure, it was somebody
else's money--and that he'd do it again to get what he had got over
again. Then, I'm sorry to say, he swore."

"And Hilary believed that stuff?"

"Hilary agreed with him," said I. "Hilary, you see, knows the lady."

"What's her name, Mr. Carter?"

"Didn't you notice his attentions to any one?"

"I notice! You don't mean that I've seen her?"

"Certainly you have."

"Was she ever here?'

"Yes, Mrs. Hilary. Hilary takes care of that."

"I shall be angry in a minute, Mr. Carter. Oh, I'll have this out of
Hilary!"

"I should."

"Who was she?"

"According to what he told Hilary, she was the most fascinating woman in
the world, Hilary thought so, too."

Mrs. Hilary began to walk up and down.

"Oh, so Hilary helped to let him go, because they both--?"

"Precisely," said I.

"And you dare to come and tell me?"

"Well, I thought you ought to know," said I. "Hilary's just as mad about
her as Johnny--in fact, he said he'd be hanged if he wouldn't have done
the same himself."

I have once seen Madame Ristori play Lady Macbeth. Her performance was
recalled to me by the tones in which Mrs. Hilary asked:

"Who is this woman, if you please, Mr. Carter?"

"So Hilary got him off--gave him fifty pounds too."

"Glad to get him away, perhaps," she burst out, in angry scorn.

"Who knows?" said I. "Perhaps."

"Her name?" demanded Lady Macbeth--I mean Mrs. Hilary--again.

"I shan't tell you, unless you promise to say nothing to Hilary."

"To say nothing! Well, really--"

"Oh, all right!" and I took up my hat.

"But I can watch them, can't I?"

"As much as you like."

"Won't you tell me?"

"If you promise."

"Well, t