cannot know what I am going through--how I hate and fear him."

"Mrs. Seabury," reassured Craig earnestly, "I'll take up your case.
Clever as the man is, there must be some way to get at him."

Sherburne must have exercised a sort of fascination over her, for the
look of relief that crossed her face as Kennedy promised to aid her was
almost painful. As often before, I could scarcely envy Kennedy in his
ready assumption of another's problems that seemed so baffling. It
meant little, perhaps, to us whether we succeeded. But to her it meant
happiness, perhaps honor itself.

It was as though she were catching at a life line in the swirling
current of events that had engulfed her. She hesitated no longer.

"I'll be there--I'll meet him--at four," she murmured, as she rose and
made a hurried departure.

For some time after she had gone, Kennedy sat considering what she had
told us. As for myself, I cannot say that I was thoroughly satisfied
that she had told all. It was not to be expected.

"How do you figure that woman out?" I queried at length.

Kennedy looked at me keenly from under knitted brows. "You mean, do I
believe her story--of her relations with this fellow, Sherbourne?" he
returned, thoughtfully.

"Exactly," I assented, "and what she said about her regard for her
husband, too."

Kennedy did not reply for a few minutes. Evidently the same question had
been in his own mind and he had not reasoned out the answer. Before he
could reply the door buzzer sounded and the colored boy from the lower
hall handed a card to Craig, with an apology about the house telephone
switchboard being out of order.

As Kennedy laid the card on the table before us, with a curt "Show the
gentleman in," to the boy, I looked at it in blank amazement.

It read, "Judson Seabury."

Before I could utter a word of comment on the strange coincidence, the
husband was sitting in the same chair in which his wife had sat less
than half an hour before.

Judson Seabury was a rather distinguished looking man of the solid,
business type. Merely to meet his steel gray eye was enough to tell one
that this man would brook no rivalry in anything he undertook. I foresaw
trouble, even though I could not define its nature.

Craig twirled the card in his fingers, as if to refresh his mind on a
name otherwise unfamiliar. I was wondering whether Seabury might not
have trailed his wife to our office and have come to demand an
explanation. It was wit