ing that afternoon before she arrived at the hotel.

She smiled, making her eyes narrow.

"Then perhaps I am half-way to genius."

"Would you be willing to sacrifice all the moral qualities if you could
have genius in exchange?"

"You can't expect me to say so. But it would be grand to have power over
men."

"You have that already."

She looked at him satirically.

"Do you know you're a terrible humbug?" she said.

"And are not you?"

"No; I think I show myself very much as I really am."

"Can a woman do that?" he said, with sudden moodiness.

"It depends. Mrs. Ackroyde can and Lady Wrackley can't."

"And--Lady Sellingworth?" he asked.

"I'm afraid she is a bit of a humbug," said Miss Van Tuyn, without
venom.

"I wonder when she'll be back?"

"Back? Where from?"

"Surely you know she had gone abroad?"

The look of surprise in Miss Van Tuyn's face was so obviously genuine
that Craven added:

"You didn't? Well, she has gone away for some time."

"Where to?"

"Somewhere on the Riviera, I believe. Probably Cap Martin. But letters
are not to be forwarded."

"At this time of year! Has she gone away alone?"

"I suppose so."

Miss Van Tuyn looked at him with a sort of cold, almost hostile
shrewdness.

"And she told you she was going?"

"Why should she tell me?" he said, with a hint of defiance.

Miss Van Tuyn left that at once.

"So Adela has run away!" she said.

She sat for a moment quite still, like one considering something
carefully.

"But she will come back," she said presently, looking up at him,
"bringing her sheaves with her."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't you remember--in the Bible?"

"But what has that to do with Lady Sellingworth?"

"Perhaps you'll understand when she comes back."

"I am really quite in the dark," he said, with obvious sincerity. "And
it's nothing to me whether Lady Sellingworth comes back or stops away."

"I thought you joined with me in adoring her."

"Adoration isn't the word. And you know it."

"And letters are not to be forwarded?" said Miss Van Tuyn.

"I heard so."

"Ah! when you went to call on her!"

"Now you are merely guessing!"

"It must be terrible to be old!" said Miss Van Tuyn, with a change of
manner. "Just think of going off alone to the Riviera in the autumn at
the age of sixty! Beauties ought to die at fifty. Plain women can live
to a hundred if they like, and it doesn't really matter. Their tragedy
is not much worse then tha