for her
so many questions. How had he escaped?--thrown off both police and old
friends? Where was he now? What was he doing? And when and how was he
going to reappear and interfere?--for Maggie had no doubt, now that she
knew him to be in New York, that he would come again; and again try to
check her.

And there was a matter which she no more understood than Larry, and this
was another of her questions: Why had she gone into a panic and aided
his escape?

Of course, she now and then thought of Dick Sherwood. She rather liked
Dick. But thus far she regarded him exactly as her scheme of life had
presented him to her: as a pleasant dupe who, in an exciting play in
which she had the thrilling lead, was to be parted from his money. She
was rather sorry for him; but this was business, and her sorrow was not
going to interfere with what she was going to do.

Maggie Cameron, at this period of her life, was not deeply
introspective. She did not realize what, according to other standards,
this thing was which she was doing. She was merely functioning as she
had been taught to function. And if any change was beginning in her, she
was thus far wholly unconscious of it.

CHAPTER XX

Larry's new problem was the most difficult and delicate dilemma of his
life--this divided loyalty: to balk Maggie and the two men behind
her without revealing the truth about Maggie to Dick, to protect Dick
without betraying Maggie. It certainly was a trying, baffling situation.

He had no such foolish idea that he could change Maggie by exposing
her. At best he would merely render her incapable of continuing this
particular course; he would increase her bitterness and hostility to
him. Anyhow, according to the remnants of his old code, that wouldn't be
playing fair--particularly after her aiding his escape when he had been
trapped.

Upon only one point was he clear, and on this he became more settled
with every hour: whatever he did he must do with the idea of a
fundamental awakening in Maggie. Merely to foil her in this one scheme
would be to solve the lesser part of his problem; Maggie would be left
unchanged, or if changed at all the change would be toward a greater
hardness, and his major problem would be made more difficult of
solution.

He considered many ways. He thought of seeing Maggie again, and once
more appealing to her. That he vetoed, not because of the danger to
himself, but because he knew Maggie would not see him; and