e, madam!" cried P. Sybarite in alarm. "Far be it from me to come
between husband and wife!"

"Don't be afraid: I'm not asking you to dabble your innocent hands in
a fellow-human's blood--merely to run an errand for me."

"Really--I'd rather be excused."

"Really," she mocked pleasantly, "you won't be. I'm a gentle creature
but determined--frail but firm, you know. Perhaps you've heard of
me--Mrs. Jefferson Inche?"

Decidedly he had; and so had nine-tenths of New York's
newspaper-reading population. His eyes widened with new interest.

"Truly?" he said, civilly responsive to the challenge in her
announcement. "But _I_ never knew Mrs. Jefferson Inche was beautiful."

"It needs a beautiful woman to be known as the most dangerous in
Town," she explained with modest pride.

"But--ah--Mr. Inche, I understand, died some years ago."

"So he did."

"Yet you speak of your husband--?"

"Of my present husband, whose name I don't wear for reasons of
real-estate. I took the rotter on because he's rich and will be richer
when his father dies; he married me because he was rotten and I had
the worst reputation he could discover. So we're quits _there_. If our
marriage comes out prematurely, he'll be disinherited; so we've agreed
to a _sub-rosa_ arrangement which leaves him, ostensibly, a marketable
bachelor. Now, I happen to know a marriage has recently been offered
him through which he would immediately come into control of a big pot
of money, and naturally he's strong for it. But I refused his offer of
a cool half-million to play the Reno circuit, and so he concluded to
sue for a divorce with a revolver, a Maxim silencer, and a perfect
alibi. Do you follow me?"

"As far as the alibi."

"Oh, that's quite simple. We don't live together, and he's in
sure-enough society, and I'm not. To-night the annual Hadley-Owen
post-lenten masquerade's in full swing just around the corner, and
friend husband's there with the rest of the haughty bunch. Can't you
see how easy it would be for him to drop round here between dances,
murder his lawful wedded wife, and beat it back, without his absence
ever being noticed?"

"It does sound feasible, if--ah--sickening," P. Sybarite admitted.
"But really, it's hard to believe. Are you positive--?"

"I tell you," said the woman impatiently, "I recognised him; I saw his
mouth--his mask wouldn't hide that--and knew him instantly."

P. Sybarite was silent: he, too, had recognized that mouth.