tirish smile, to Haredale, who had made an eighth at dinner:

"You won't mind amusing Miss Oppner, Haredale, till we're through with
this little job? It's out of your line; you'll be more at home here, I'm
sure."

The room chosen for this important conference was a small one, having
but a single door, which opened on a tiny antechamber; this, in turn,
gave upon the corridor. When the six millionaires had entered, and Mr.
Oppner had satisfied himself that suitable refreshments were placed in
readiness, he returned to the corridor. Immediately outside the door
stood Mr. Aloys. X. Alden.

"You'll sit right there," instructed Oppner. "The man's bringing a chair
and smokes and liquor, and you'll let nobody in--_nobody_. We can't be
heard out here, with the anteroom between and both doors shut; there's
only one window, and this is the sixth storey. So I guess our Bablon
palaver will be private, some."

Alden nodded, bit off the end of a cheroot, and settled himself against
the wall. Mr. Oppner returned to his guests. In another room Zoe and Sir
Richard Haredale struggled with a conversation upon sundry matters
wherein neither was interested in the least. Suddenly Zoe said, in her
impulsive, earnest way:

"Sir Richard, I know you won't be angry, but Mary is my very dearest
friend; we were at school together, too; and--she told me all about it
this afternoon. I understand what this loss means to you, and that it's
quite impossible for you to remain with Mr. Rohscheimer any longer; that
you mean to resign your commission and go abroad. It isn't necessary for
me to say I am sorry."

He thanked her mutely, but it was with a certain expectancy that he
awaited her next words. Rumour had linked Zoe Oppner's name with that of
Severac Bablon, extravagantly, as it seemed to Haredale; but everything
connected with that extraordinary man _was_ extravagant. He recalled how
Mary, on more than one occasion, had exhibited traces of embarrassment
when the topic was mooted, and how she had hinted that Severac Bablon
might be induced to interest himself in his, Haredale's, financial loss.
Could it be that Mary--perhaps through her notoriously eccentric
American friend--had met the elusive wonder-worker? Haredale, be it
remembered, was hard hit, and completely down. This insane suspicion had
found no harbourage in his mind at any other time; but now, he hugged it
dejectedly, watching Zoe Oppner's pretty, expressive face for
confirmatory ev