ue so," said the
Secretary presently. "We seem doomed to be rivals always, Captain
Prescott; at least we can give each other the credit of good taste. At
first it was Helen Harley who took our fancy--a fancy it was and nothing
more--but now I think a deeper passion has been stirred in us by the
same object, Miss Catherwood. You see, I am still frank. I know very
well that you care nothing for Mrs. Markham. It is but a momentary
folly, the result of jealousy or something akin to it--and here I am,
resolved to triumph over you, not because I would enjoy your defeat, but
because my own victories are sweet to me. If I happen to hold in my hand
certain cards which chance has not dealt to you, can you blame me if I
play them?"

"Will you spare Miss Catherwood?" asked Prescott.

"Should I not play my cards?" repeated the Secretary.

"I see," said Prescott. "You told me that I brought my pride with me.
Well, I did not bring all of it. I left at home enough to permit me to
ask this favour of you. But I was wrong; I should not have made the
request."

"I have not refused it yet," said the Secretary. "I merely do not wish
to pledge myself. When a man makes promises he places bonds on his own
arms, and I prefer mine free; but since I seek Miss Catherwood as a
wife, is it not a fair inference that her fame is as dear to me as it is
to you?"

Prescott was compelled to admit the truth of this statement, but it did
not cover all the ground. He felt that the Secretary, while not
betraying Lucia, would in some way use his knowledge of her for his own
advantage. This was the thought at the bottom of his mind, but he could
not speak it aloud to the Secretary. Any man would repel such an
intimation at once as an insult, and the agile mind of James Sefton
would make use of it as another strong trump card in playing his game.

"Then you will make no promise?" asked Prescott.

"Promises are poor coin," replied the Secretary, "hardly better than our
Confederate bills. Let me repeat that the fame of Lucia Catherwood is as
dear to me as it is to you. With that you should be content."

"If that is all, good-day," said Prescott, and he went out, holding his
head very high. The Secretary saw defiance in his attitude.

Mr. Sefton went the following evening to the little house in the cross
street, seeking an interview with Lucia Catherwood, and she, holding
many things in mind, was afraid to deny him.

"It is your friend, Captain Prescott,