h the streets of New York sitting on the front seat beside him, as
if she were a lady's maid! Worse than all, her dress, her gloves, were
stained with blood. As for the inside of the new car, it would be
ruined. The man felt responsible, and believed that his master would
consider him so. Sitting beside Mrs. Sands, with the look of an inferior
Roman statue on his square face, the chauffeur resolved to see Mr. Sands
before the tale of this morning's work could be told by Sands' American
chauffeur, who drove him to and from the office. The Englishman decided
to bribe the American to "lend his job" that afternoon. They could
arrange an excuse. Harter had a cold. But, as it happened, Roger Sands
read of the affair in a second edition of an evening paper while he
waited for his car.

To see Beverley's name in big letters gave him a shock. He became
conscious that somewhere within him had always been a horror of finding
his wife's name in a newspaper, heading "scarelines." His first feeling
as he read on was of relief. Why, this was nothing!

Some reporter had worked up the incident into a romance, and his editor,
appreciating Roger Sands' importance, had given it nearly a whole
column. On the surface it was a tribute to Mrs. Sands' goodness of
heart; but as Roger's rush of thankfulness passed, he began to see an
unpleasant side of the business.

The reporter had interviewed various persons in the firm of Moreton and
Payntor. He had learned that the girl befriended by Mrs. Roger Sands was
employed in the restaurant for women "assistants." By certain of these,
she had been suspected of small thefts. They had watched her, and it was
in the midst of a "scene" following an accusation, that the waitress had
suddenly flung herself out of a fourth story window. She was an Irish
girl not long in New York. Her name was Clo Riley, and she had been in
the employ of Moreton and Payntor for nearly seven months. She had made
no friends, and was considered "Mysterious."

At the Park Avenue apartment of Mr. and Mrs. Roger Sands an interview
had been refused; but the reporter had learned from a servant that, if
the invalid were "a dear relative" of Mrs. Sands, she could not be more
lovingly cared for. The largest and handsomest spare room had been
hastily prepared, a trained nurse engaged, and a famous surgeon had been
called in consultation with the doctor who had undertaken the case.
Following these details came a description of Mrs. Rog