The Governor E-Book

E. Phillips Oppenheim

• Herausgeber: Ktoczyta.pl
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018

Beschreibung

An engrossing tale of financial intrigue, full of shadowy characters and shady dealings from the author of mystery and espionage thrillers E. Phillips Oppenheim. Phineas Duge, leader of a group of American millionaires who work financial deals together, suspects his colleagues of crooked dealings, and tricks them into signing a document that gives him power over the group. During a struggle the document is stolen from Duge, and everyone is pulled into a frantic search to reclaim the incriminating paper. Readers of Mr. Oppenheim’s novels may always count on a story of absorbing interest, turning on a complicated plot, worked out with dexterous craftsmanship.

Leseprobe

Contents

BOOK I

I. MR. PHINEAS DUGE

II. COUSIN STELLA

III. STORM CLOUDS

IV. A MEETING OF GIANTS

V. TREACHERY

VI. MR. WEISS IN A HURRY

VII. A PROFESSIONAL BURGLAR

VIII. FIREARMS

IX. CONSPIRATORS

X. MR. NORRIS VINE

XI. MR. LITTLESON, FLATTERER

XII. STELLA SUCCEEDS

XIII. BEARDING THE LION

XIV. STELLA PROVES OBSTINATE

XV. THE WARNING

XVI. A TRUCE

BOOK II

I. MY NAME IS MILDMAY

II. REFLECTIONS

III. "WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

IV. THE AMERICAN AMBASSADOR

V. A QUESTION OF COURAGE

VI. MR. MILDMAY AGAIN

VII. AN APPOINTMENT

VIII. DEFEATED

IX. INGRATITUDE

X. A NEW VENTURE

XI. CONSCIENCE

XII. DUKE OF MOWBRAY

XIII. AN INTRODUCTION

XIV. ANOTHER DISAPPEARANCE

XV. MR. DUGE THREATENS

XVI. TRAPPED

XVII. MR. DUGE FAILS

XVIII. ADVICE FOR MR. VINE

XIX. THE CRISIS

XX. BEWITCHED

XXI. A LESSON LEARNED

XXII. A SURPRISE

XXIII. A DINNER PARTY

BOOK I

I. MR. PHINEAS DUGE

Virginia, when she had torn herself away from the bosom of her sorrowing but excited family, and boarded the car which passed only once a day through the tiny village in Massachusetts, where all her life had been spent, had felt herself, notwithstanding her nineteen years, a person of consequence and dignity. Virginia, when four hours later she followed a tall footman in wonderful livery through a stately suite of reception rooms in one of the finest of Fifth Avenue mansions, felt herself suddenly a very insignificant person. The roar and bustle of New York were still in her ears. Bewildered as she had been by this first contact with all the distracting influences of a great city, she was even more distraught by the wonder and magnificence of these, her more immediate surroundings. She, who had lived all her life in a simple farmhouse, where every one worked, and a single servant was regarded as a luxury, found herself suddenly in the palace of a millionaire, a palace made perfect by the despoilment of more than one of the most ancient homes in Europe.

Very timidly, and with awed glances, she looked around her as she was conducted in leisurely manner to the sanctum of the great man at whose bidding she had come. The pictures on the walls, magnificent and impressive even to her ignorant eyes; the hardwood floors, the wonderful furniture, the statuary and flowers, the smooth-tongued servants–all these things were an absolute revelation to her. She had read of such things, even perhaps dreamed of them, but she had never imagined it possible that she herself might be brought into actual contact with them.

At every step she took she felt her self-confidence decreasing; her clothes, made by the village dressmaker from an undoubted French model, with which she had been more than satisfied only a few hours ago, seemed suddenly dowdy and ill-fashioned. She was even doubtful about her looks, although quite half a dozen of the nicest young men in her neighbourhood had been doing their best to make her vain since the day when she had left college, an unusually early graduate, and returned to her father’s tiny home to become the acknowledged belle of the neighbourhood. Here, though, she felt her looks of small avail; she might reign as a queen in Wellham Springs, but she felt herself a very insignificant person in the home of her uncle, the great railway millionaire and financier, Mr. Phineas Duge. Her courage had almost evaporated when at last, after a very careful knock at the door, an English footman ushered her into the small and jealously guarded sanctum in which the great man was sitting. She passed only a few steps across the threshold, and stood there, a timid, hesitating figure, her dark eyes very anxiously searching the features of the man who had risen from his seat to greet her.

“So this is my niece Virginia,” he said, holding out both his hands. “I am glad to see you. Take this chair close to me. I am getting an old man, you see, and I have many whims. I like to have any one with whom I am talking almost at my elbow. Now tell me, my dear, what sort of a journey you have had. You look a little tired, or is it because everything here is strange to you?”

All her fears seemed to be melting away. Never could she have imagined a more harmless-looking, benevolent, and handsome old gentleman. He was thin and of only moderate stature. His white hair, of which he still had plenty, was parted in the middle and brushed away in little waves. He was clean-shaven, and his grey eyes were at once soft and humorous. He had a delicate mouth, refined features, and his slow, distinct speech was pleasant, almost soothing to listen to. She felt suddenly an immense wave of relief, and she realized perhaps for the first time how much she had dreaded this meeting.

“I am not really tired at all,” she assured him, “only you see I have never been in a big city, and it is very noisy here, isn’t it? Besides, I have never seen anything so beautiful as this house. I think it frightened me a little.”

He laid his hand upon hers kindly.

“I imagine,” he said, smiling, “that you will very soon get used to this. You will have the opportunity, if you choose.”

She laughed softly.

“If I choose!” she repeated. “Why, it is all like fairyland to me.”

He nodded.

“You come,” he said, “from a very quiet life. You will find things here different. Do you know what these are?”

He touched a little row of black instruments which stood on the top of his desk. She shook her head doubtfully.

“I am not quite sure,” she admitted.

“They are telephones,” he said. “This one”–touching the first–“is a private wire to my offices in Wall Street. This one”–laying a finger upon the second–“is a private wire to the bank of which I am president. These two,” he continued, “are connected with the two brokers whom I employ. The other three are ordinary telephones–two for long distance calls and one for the city. When you came in I touched this knob on the floor beneath my foot. All the telephones were at once disconnected here and connected with my secretaries’ room. I can sit here at this table and shake the money-markets of the world. I can send stocks up or down at my will. I can ruin if I like, or I can enrich. It is the fashion nowadays to speak lightly of the mere man of money, yet there is no king on his throne who can shake the world as can we kings of the money-market by the lifting even of a finger.”

“Are you a millionaire?” she asked timidly. “But, of course, you must be, or you could not live in a house like this.”

He laid his hand gently upon hers.

“Yes,” he said, “I am a millionaire a good many times over, or I should not be of much account in New York. But there, I have told you enough about myself. I sent for you, as you know, because there are times when I feel a little lonely, and I thought that if my sister could spare one of her children, it would be a kindly act, and one which I might perhaps be able to repay. Do you think that you would like to live here with me, Virginia, and be mistress of this house?”

She shrank a little away. The prospect was not without its terrifying side.

“Why, I should love it,” she declared, “but I simply shouldn’t dare to think of it. You don’t understand, I am afraid, the way we live down at Wellham Springs. We have really no servants, and we do everything ourselves. I couldn’t attempt to manage a house like this.”

He smiled at her kindly.

“Perhaps,” he said, “you would find it less difficult than you think. There is a housekeeper already, who sees to all the practical part of it. She only needs to have some one to whom she can refer now and then. You would have nothing whatever to do with the managing of the servants, the commissariat, or anything of that sort. Yours would be purely social duties.”

“I am afraid,” she answered, “that I should know even less about them.”

“Well,” he said, “I have some good friends who will give you hints. You will find it very much easier than you imagine. You have only to be natural, acquire the art of listening, and wear pretty gowns, and you will find it a simple matter to become quite a popular person.”

She nerved herself to ask him a question. He looked so kind and good-natured that it did not seem possible that he would resent it.

“Uncle,” she said, “of course I am very glad to be here, and it all sounds very delightful. But what about–Stella?”

He leaned back in his chair. There was a pained look in his face. She was almost sorry that she had mentioned his daughter’s name.

“Perhaps,” he said, “it is as well that you should have asked me that question. I have always been an indulgent father, as I think you will find me an indulgent uncle. But there are certain things, certain offences I might say, for which I have no forgiveness. Stella deceived me. She made use of information, secret information which she acquired in this room, to benefit some man in whom she was interested. She used my secrets to enrich this person. She did this after I had warned her. I never warn twice.”

“You mean that you sent her away?” she asked timidly.

“I mean that my doors are closed to her,” he answered gravely, “as they would be closed upon you if you behaved as Stella has behaved. But, my dear child,” he added, smiling kindly at her, “I do not expect this from you. I feel sure that what I have said will be sufficient. If you will stay with me a little time, and take my daughter’s place, I think you will not find me very stern or very ungrateful. Now I am going to ring for Mrs. Perrin, my housekeeper, and she will show you your room. To-night you and I are going to dine quite alone, and we can talk again then. By the by, do you really mean that you have never been to New York before?”

“Never!” she answered. “I have been to Boston twice, never anywhere else.”

He smiled.

“Well,” he said, “the sooner you are introduced to some of its wonders, the better. We will dine out to-night, and I will take you to one of the famous restaurants. It will suit me better to be somewhere out of the way for an hour or two this evening. There is a panic in Chicago and Illinois–but there, you wouldn’t understand that. Be ready at 8 o’clock.”

“But uncle–“ she began.

He waved his hand.

“I know what you are going to say–clothes. You will find some evening dresses in your room. I have had a collection of things sent round on approval, and you will probably be able to find one you can wear. Ah! here is Mrs. Perrin.”

The door had opened, and a middle-aged lady in a stiff black silk gown had entered the room.

“Mrs. Perrin,” he said, “this is my niece. She comes from the country. She knows nothing. Tell her everything that she ought to know. Help her with her clothes, and turn her out as well as you can to dine with me at Sherry’s at eight o’clock.”

A bell rang at his elbow, and one of the telephones began to tinkle. He picked up the receiver and waved them out of the room. Virginia followed her guide upstairs, feeling more and more with every step she took that she was indeed a wanderer in some new and enchanted land of the Arabian Nights.

II. COUSIN STELLA

“Well,” he said, smiling kindly at her over the bank of flowers which occupied the centre of the small round table at which they were dining, “what do you think of it all?”

Virginia shook her head.

“I cannot tell you,” she said. “I haven’t any words left. It is all so wonderful. You have never been to our home at Wellham Springs, or else you would understand.”

He smiled.

“I think I can understand,” he said, “what it is like. I, too, you know, was brought up at a farmhouse.”

Her eyes smiled at him across the table.

“You should see my room,” she said, “at home. It is just about as large as the cupboard in which I am supposed to keep my dresses here.”

“I hope,” he said, “that you will like where Mrs. Perrin has put you.”

“Like!” she gasped. “I don’t believe that I could have ever imagined anything like it. Do you know that I have a big bathroom of my own, with a marble floor, and a sitting-room so beautiful that I am afraid almost to look into it. I don’t believe I’ll ever be able to go to bed.”

“In a week,” he said indulgently, “you will become quite used to these things. In a month you would miss them terribly if you had to give them up.”

Her face was suddenly grave. He looked across at her keenly.

“What are you thinking of?” he asked.

“I was thinking,” she answered, after a moment’s hesitation, “of Stella. I was wondering what it must be to her to have to give up all these beautiful things.”

His expression hardened a little. The smile had passed from his lips.

“You never knew your cousin, I think?” he asked.

“Never,” she admitted.

“Then I do not think,” he said, “that you need waste your sympathy upon her. Tell me, do you see that young lady in a mauve-coloured dress and a large hat, sitting three tables to the left of us?”

She looked across and nodded.

“Of course I do,” she answered. “How handsome she is, and what a strange-looking man she has with her! He looks very clever.”

Her uncle smiled once more, but his face lacked its benevolent expression.

“The man is clever,” he answered. “His name is Norris Vine, and he is a journalist, part owner of a newspaper, I believe. He is one of those foolish persons who imagine themselves altruists, and who are always trying to force their opinions upon other people. The young lady with him–is my daughter and your cousin.”

Virginia’s great eyes were opened wider than ever. Her lips parted, showing her wonderful teeth. The pink colour stained her cheeks.

“Do you mean that that is Stella?” she exclaimed.

Her uncle nodded, and paused for a moment to give an order to a passing maitre d’hotel.

“Yes!” he resumed, “that is Stella, and that is the man for whose sake she robbed me.”

Virginia was still full of wonder.

“But you did not speak to her when she came in!” she said. “You nodded to the man, but took no notice of her!”

“I do not expect,” he said quietly, “ever to speak to her again. I have been a kind father; I think that on the whole I am a good-natured man, but there are things which I do not forgive, and which I should forgive my own flesh and blood less even than I should a stranger.”

The colour faded from her cheeks.

“It seems terrible,” she murmured.

“As for the man,” he continued, “he is my enemy, although it is only a matter of occasional chances which can make him in any way formidable. We speak because we are enemies. When you have had a little more experience, you will find that that is how the game is played here.”

She was silent for several minutes. Her uncle turned his head, and immediately two maitres d’hotel and several waiters came rushing up. He gave a trivial order and dismissed them. Then he looked across at his niece, whose appetite seemed suddenly to have failed her.

“Tell me,” he said, “what is the matter with you, Virginia?”

“I am a little afraid of you,” she answered frankly. “I should be a little afraid of any one who could talk like that about his own child.”

He smiled softly.

“You have the quality,” he said, “which I admire most in your sex, and find most seldom. You are candid. You come from a little world where sentiment almost governs life. It is not so here. I am a kind man, I believe, but I am also just. My daughter deceived me, and for deceit I have no forgiveness. Do you still think me cruel, Virginia?”

“I am wondering,” she answered frankly. “You see, I have read about you in the papers, and I was terribly frightened when mother told me that I was to come. Directly I saw you, you seemed quite a different person, and now again I am afraid.”

“Ah!” he sighed, “that terrible Press of ours! They told you, I suppose, that I was hard, unscrupulous, unforgiving, a money-making machine, and all the rest of it. Do you think that I look like that, Virginia?”

“I am very sure that you do not,” she answered.

“You will know me better, I hope, in a year or so’s time,” he said. “If you wish to please me, there are two things which you have to remember, and which I expect from you. One is absolute, implicit obedience, the other is absolute, unvarying truth. You will never, I think, have cause to complain of me, if you remember those two things.”

“I will try,” she murmured.

Her thoughts suddenly flitted back to the poor little home from which she had come with such high hopes. She thought of the excitement which had followed the coming of her uncle’s letter; the hopes that her harassed, overworked father had built upon it; the sudden, almost trembling joy which had come into her mother’s thin, faded face. Her first taste of luxury suddenly brought before her eyes, stripped bare of everything except its pitiful cruelty, that ceaseless struggle for life in which it seemed to her that all of them had been engaged, year after year. She shivered a little as she thought of them, shivered for fear she should fail now that the chance had come of some day being able to help them. Absolute obedience, absolute truth! If these two things were all, she could hold on, she was sure of it.

A messenger boy was brought in, and delivered a letter to her uncle. He read and destroyed it at once.

“There is no answer,” he said.

The messenger protested.

“I am to wait, sir, until you give me one,” he said. “The gentleman said it was most important. I was to find you anywhere, anyhow, and get an answer of some sort.”

“How much,” Mr. Phineas Duge asked, “were you to receive if you took back an answer?”

“The gentleman promised me a dollar, sir,” the boy answered.

Mr. Duge put his hand into his pocket.

“Here are two dollars,” he said. “Go away at once. There is no answer. There will not be one. You can tell Mr. Hamilton that I said so.”

The boy departed. Her uncle looked across at Virginia and smiled. “That is how we have to buy immunity from small annoyances here,” he said. “All the time it is the same thing–dollars, dollars, dollars! That messenger boy was clever to get in. When we leave this restaurant, you will find that there are at least half a dozen people waiting to speak to me. It will be telephoned to several places in the city that I am dining here to-night. From where I am sitting, I can see two reporters standing by the entrance. They are waiting for me.”

She looked at him with interested eyes.

“But why?” she asked timidly.

“Oh! it is simply a matter,” he said, “of the money-markets. I have been doing some things during the last few days which people don’t quite understand. They don’t know whether to follow me or stand away, and the Press doesn’t know how to explain my actions; so you see I am watched. You heard what I said,” he asked, somewhat abruptly, “about those two things, obedience and truth?”

“Yes!” she answered.

“They say,” he resumed, “that a wise man trusts no one. I, on the other hand, do not believe this. There are times when one must trust. Your mother and your father were both as honest as people could be, whatever their other faults may have been. I like your face. I believe that you, too, are honest.”

“Remember,” she said, smiling, “that I have never been tempted.”

“There could be no bidders for your faithfulness,” he answered, “whom I could not outbid. I am going to trust you, Virginia. There are sometimes occasions when I do things, or am concerned in matters, which not even my secretaries have any idea of. You only, in the future, will know. I think, dear, that we shall get on very well together. I am not going to offer you a great deal of money, because you would not know what to do with it, but so long as you remain with me, and serve me in the way that I direct, I am going to do what I feel I ought to have done long ago for your people down at Wellham Springs.”

Her face shone, and her beautiful eyes were more brilliant still with unshed tears.

“Uncle!” she murmured breathlessly.

He nodded.

“That will do,” he said. “I only wanted you to understand. For the next week or two, all that you have to do is to get used to your position. The small services which I shall require of you will commence later on. Now try some of that ice. It has been prepared specially. How do you like our New York cooking?”

“It is all too marvellous,” she declared.

Then there came a sudden interruption. She heard the rustle of a gown close to their table, and looking up found to her amazement that it was Stella who was standing there.

“So you are my cousin!” Stella said, “little Virginia! I only saw you once before, but I should have known you anywhere by your eyes. No! of course you don’t remember me! You see I am six years older. I mustn’t stop, because, as I dare say you know, I am not on speaking terms with my father, but I felt that I must just shake hands with you, and tell you that I remembered you.”

“You are very kind,” Virginia faltered.

Her uncle had risen to his feet, and was standing in an attitude of polite inattention, as though some perfect stranger had addressed the lady who was under his care. He appeared quite indifferent; in his daughter’s voice there had not been the slightest trace of any sentiment. A careless word or two passed between him and the man Norris Vine, who was waiting for Stella. Then they passed out together, and Phineas Duge calmly resumed his chair. Virginia, who had expected to find him angry, was herself amazed.

“By the by,” Mr. Duge said, as he lit a cigarette, “always remember what I told you about that man. Be especially on your guard if ever you are brought into contact with him. I happen to know that he registered a vow, a year ago, that before five years were past he would ruin me.”

“I will remember,” Virginia faltered.

III. STORM CLOUDS

Mr. Phineas Duge, since the death of his wife, had closed his doors to all his friends, and entertained only on rare occasions a few of the men with whom he was connected in his many business enterprises. On the arrival of Virginia, however, he lifted his finger, and Society stormed at his doors. The great reception rooms were thrown open, the servants were provided with new liveries, an entertainment office was given carte blanche to engage the usual run of foreign singers and the best known mountebanks of the moment. Mrs. Trevor Harrison, the woman whom he had selected as chaperon for Virginia, more than once displayed some curiosity, when talking to her charge, as to this sudden change in the habits of a man whose lack of sociability had become almost proverbial.

“If it were not, my dear,” she said one day to Virginia, when they were having tea together in her own more modest apartment, “that I firmly believe your uncle incapable of any affection for any one, we should all have to believe that he had lost his heart to you.”

Virginia, who had heard other remarks of the same nature, looked puzzled.

“I cannot see,” she exclaimed, “why every one speaks of my uncle as a heartless person. I do not think that I ever met any one more kind, and he looks it, too. I do not think that I ever saw any one with such a benevolent face.”

Mrs. Trevor Harrison laughed softly as she rocked herself in her chair.

“Dear child,” she said, “New York has known your uncle for twenty-five years, and suffered for him. These men who make great fortunes must make them at the expense of other people, and there are very many who have gone down to make Phineas Duge what he is.”

“I cannot understand it,” Virginia said.

“Your uncle,” Mrs. Trevor Harrison continued, “has a will of iron, is absolutely self-centered; sentiment has never swayed him in the least. He has climbed up on the bodies of weaker men. But there, in America we blame no one for that. It is the strong man who lives, and the others must die. Only I cannot quite understand this new development. I have never known your uncle to do a purposeless thing.”

“You say,” Virginia remarked slowly, “that he has no heart. Why did he send for me, then? Since I have been here, he has paid off the mortgage which was making my father an old man, he has sent my brother to college, and has promised, so long as I am with him, to allow them so much money that they have no more anxiety at all. If you only knew what a change this has made in all our lives, you would understand that I do not like to hear you say that my uncle has no heart.”

Mrs. Trevor Harrison stopped rocking her chair, and looked at the girl thoughtfully.

“Well,” she said, “what you tell me sounds very strange. Still, I don’t see what motive he could have had for doing all this.”

“Why should you suspect a motive?” Virginia demanded.

“Because he is Phineas Duge,” Mrs. Harrison said drily. “But there, my dear child, I mustn’t say a word against your uncle. He has been nice enough to me because I have promised to look after you. Does he want me to marry you, I wonder? I don’t think that it would be very difficult.”

Virginia blushed, and moved uneasily in her chair.

“Please don’t,” she begged. “I do not wish to think of anything of the sort. My uncle says that presently I am to help him.”

“To help him,” Mrs. Trevor Harrison repeated thoughtfully.

Virginia nodded.

“Yes! I don’t exactly know how, but that is what he said.”

Her chaperon looked thoughtful for a moment. So there was a motive somewhere, then! But, after all, what concern was it of hers? She was an old friend of the Duge family, and Phineas Duge had made it very well worth her while to look after his niece.

They were interrupted by some callers. It was an informal “At Home” which Mrs. Harrison was giving in honour of her young charge. Soon the rooms were crowded with people, and Virginia, slim, elegant, perfectly gowned, looking like a picture, with her pale oval face and wonderful dark grey eyes, was the centre of a good deal of attention. And in the midst of it all a girl, whom as yet she had not noticed, touched her on the arm and drew her a little away. She started with surprise when she saw that it was Stella.

“Come, my dear cousin,” Stella said, “I want to have a little talk with you. Won’t you sit down with me here? I am sure you have been doing your duty admirably.”

Virginia was a little shy. She was not quite sure whether she ought to talk to her cousin. Nevertheless, she obeyed the stronger personality.

“Of course I know,” Stella said, spreading herself out on a sofa, and smiling in amusement at the other’s slight embarrassment, “that I am in disgrace with my beloved parent, and that you are half afraid to talk to me. Still, you must remember that you owe me a little consideration, for you have taken my place, and turned me out into the cold world.”

“You must not talk like that, please,” Virginia said quietly. “You know very well that I have done nothing of the sort. When my uncle sent for me, I had no idea that you were not still living with him.”

“I lived with him for three years,” Stella said, “after I had come back from Europe. I call that a very wonderful record. I give you about three months.”

“I don’t know why you should say this,” Virginia answered. “I find my uncle very easy to get on with so long as he is obeyed.”

Stella smiled.

“Ah, well!” she said, “I don’t want to dishearten you, only you seem rather a nice little thing, and I am afraid you don’t quite understand the sort of man my father is. However, you’ll find out, and until you do I should have as good a time as I could if I were you. How do you like New York?”

“How could I help liking it?” Virginia answered. “I came here from a little wooden farmhouse in a desolate part of the country. I did not know what luxury was. Here I have a maid, a suite of rooms, an automobile, and all manner of wonderful things, all of my own.”

“Will you be willing,” Stella asked calmly, “to pay the price when the time comes?”

Virginia looked at her wonderingly.

“The price?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

Stella laughed a little hardly.

“Little girl,” she said, “you are very young. Let me tell you this. My father never did a kind action in his life for its own sake. He never befriended any one for any other motive than that some day or other he meant to exact some return for it. Your time hasn’t come yet, but there will be something some day which will help you to understand.”

Virginia sat upright in her seat. A very becoming touch of colour had stolen into her cheeks, and her eyes were bright.

“I like to talk to you, Stella,” she said, “because you are my cousin, and none of these other people are even my friends yet, but I cannot listen to you if you talk like this of the man who has been so kind to me, especially,” she added, “as he is your father and my uncle.”

Stella leaned over and patted her hand patronizingly.

“Silly little girl!” she said. “Never mind, we shall be friends some day, I dare say. You daren’t come and see me, I suppose?”

Virginia shook her head.

“Not without my uncle’s permission,” she said.

“Quite right,” Stella agreed. “Don’t run any risks. We shall come across one another now and then, especially since my father seems determined to throw open his doors once more to the usual mob. By the by, does he ever say anything about me?”

“Nothing,” Virginia answered, “except that you deceived him. He has told me that.”

“Any particulars?” Stella asked.

“I am not sure,” Virginia said, “that I ought to repeat them.”

Stella sat quite still for a moment, and a slight frown was on her forehead.

“He has told you, then, why he sent me away?” she asked.

“Yes!” Virginia answered.

Stella shrugged her shoulders and rose.

“Well,” she said, “I mustn’t monopolize you any longer, or I shall be in disgrace.”

She walked away with a little nod, leaving behind her a faint but uncomfortable impression. Virginia, an hour or so later, thought it best to tell her uncle of this meeting. They were standing together in one of the reception rooms, waiting for some guests who were coming to dine, and were alone except for a couple of footmen, who were lighting a huge candelabrum of wax candles.

“Uncle,” Virginia said, “I met Stella this afternoon, and she came and spoke to me.”