suddenly, and say to him tenderly, 'at last, Horace!' If that
fetches nothing, then we must go to California, and work until we get
the evidence which will force him to acknowledge himself and give up his
money. But by that time, if we can make sure it is he, and if we can get
his money, then I would recommend one thing! Kill him!"

Sonia's eyes sparkled at the thought of that sweet murder.

"And wait another five years for all this," was her cynical remark.

"If the question is not settled this Fall, then let it go forever," said
Edith with energy.

"The scheme is well enough," Sonia said lazily. "Is this Arthur Dillon
handsome, a dashing blade?"

"Better," murmured Edith with a smack of her lips, "a virtuous sport,
who despises the sex in a way, and can master woman by a look. He is my
master. And I hate him! It will be worth your time to see him and meet
him."

"And now you," to Curran.

Sonia did not know, nor care why Edith hated Dillon.

"I protest, Sonia. He will put a spell on you, and spoil our chances.
Let him talk later when we have succeeded or failed."

"Nonsense, you fool. I must hear both sides, but I declare now that I
submit myself to you wholly. What do you say, Curran?"

"Just this, madam: if this man Arthur Dillon is really your husband,
then he's too clever to be caught by any power in this world. Any way
you choose to take it, you will end as this search has always ended."

"Why do you think him so clever? My Horace was anything but clever ...
at least we thought so ... until now."

"Until he has foiled every attempt to find him," said Curran. "Colette
has her own ideas, but she has kept back all the details that make or
unmake a case. She is so sure of her instincts! No doubt they are good."

"But not everything, hey?" said the lady tenderly. "Ah, a woman's
instincts lead her too far sometimes...." they all laughed. "Well, give
me the details Colette left out. No winking at each other. I won't raise
a hand in this matter until I have heard both sides."

"This Arthur Dillon is Irish, and lives among the Irish in the
old-fashioned Irish way, half in the slums, and half in the swell
places...."

"_Mon Dieu_, what is this I hear! The Irish! My Horace live among the
Irish! That's not the man. He could live anywhere, among the Chinese,
the Indians, the niggers, but with that low class of people, never!" and
she threw up her hands in despair. "Did I come from Boston to pursue a
low Iris