, as I think, he's on our tracks all the time. You ought
to get at his papers."

"A love affair! Our tracks!" Curran repeated in confusion.

"Do you think you can catch a man like Arthur napping?" she sneered. "Is
there a moment in the last four years that he has been asleep? See to it
that you are not reported to him every night. But if he is in love with
Honora Ledwith, there's a chance that he won't see or care to see what
you are doing. She's a lovely girl. A hint of another woman would settle
his chances of winning her. I can give her that. I'd like to. A woman of
her stamp has no business marrying."

She mused a few minutes over her own statements, while Curran stared. He
began to feel that the threads of this game were not all in his hands.

"You must now go to the priest and Anne Dillon," she resumed, "and say
to them plump ... take the priest first ... say to them plump before
they can hold their faces in shape: do you know Horace Endicott? Then
watch the faces, and get what you can out of them."

"That means you will have Arthur down on you next day."

"Sure," catching her breath. "But it is now near the end of the season.
When he comes to have it out with me, he will find himself face to face
with Sonia. If it's to be a fight, he'll find a tiger. Then we can run
away to California, if Sonia says so."

"You are going to bring Sonia down, then?"

"You suggested it. Lemme tell you what you're going to find out to-day.
You're going to find out that Monsignor knew Horace Endicott. After that
I think it would be all right to bring down Sonia."

Little use to argue with her, or with any woman for that matter, once an
idea lodged so deep in her brain. He went to see Monsignor, with the
intention of being candid with him: in fact there was no other way of
dealing with the priest. In his experience Curran had found no class so
difficult to deal with as the clergy. They were used to keeping other
people's secrets as well as their own. He did not reveal his plan to
Edith, because he feared her criticism, and could not honestly follow
her methods. He had not, with all his skill and cunning, her genius for
ferreting.

Monsignor, acquainted with him, received him coldly. Edith's
instructions were, ask the question plump, watch his face, and then run
to Anne Dillon before she can be warned by the Monsignor's messenger.
Looking into the calm, well-drilled countenance of the priest, Curran
found it impossible to sur