n instant and disgraceful brawl.

"As for my mask," he said--"if it still annoys you--"

He jerked it off and away.

Escaping the balustrade, it caught a wandering air and drifted
indolently down through the darkness of the street, like an errant
petal plucked from some strange and sinister bloom of scarlet
violence.

"And if my face tells you nothing," he added hotly, "perhaps my name
will help. It's Sybarite. You may have heard it!"

As if from a blow, Shaynon's eyes winced. Breathing heavily, he
averted a face that took on the hue of parchment in the cold light
striking up from the electric globes that march Fifth Avenue. Then
quietly adjusting his crumpled cuff, he drew himself up.

"Marian," he said as soon as he had his voice under control, "since
you wish it, I'll wait for you in the lobby, downstairs. As--as for
you, sir--"

"Yes, I know," the little man interrupted wearily: "you'll 'deal with'
me later, 'at a time and a place more fitting.'...Well, I won't mind
the delay if you'll just trot along now, like a good dog--"

Unable longer to endure the lash of his mordacious wit, Shaynon turned
and left them alone on the balcony.

"I'm sorry," P. Sybarite told the girl in unfeigned contrition.
"Please forgive me. I've a vicious temper--the colour of my hair--and
I couldn't resist the temptation to make him squirm."

"If you only knew how I despised him," she said, "you wouldn't think
it necessary to excuse yourself--though I don't know yet what it's all
about."

"Simply, I happen to have the whip-hand of the Shaynon conscience,"
returned P. Sybarite; "I happened to know that Bayard is secretly the
husband of a woman notorious in New York under the name of Mrs.
Jefferson Inche."

"Is that true? Dare I believe--?"

Intimations of fears inexpressibly alleviated breathed in her cry.

"I believe it."

"On what grounds? Tell me!"

"The word of the lady herself, together with the evidence of his
confusion just now. What more do you need?"

Turning aside, the girl rested a hand upon the balustrade and gazed
blankly off through the night.

"But--I can't help thinking there must be some mistake--some terrible
mistake."

"If so, it is theirs--the Shaynons', father and son."

"But they've been bringing such pressure to bear to make me agree to
an earlier wedding day--!"

"Not even that shakes my belief in Mrs. Inche's story. As a matter of
fact, Bayard offered her half a million if she'd divorce hi