the tempter, "a woman's love."

A woman's love--to the despairing suitor there was one and only one in
this wide, wide world, and her words, burning their way into his
heart, had made this temptation possible: "No drooping Clytie could be
more constant than I to him who strikes the chord that is responsive
in my soul."

Holding the violin aloft, he cried exultingly: "Henceforth thou art
mine, though death and oblivion lurk ever near thee!"

VII

Perkins, seated in his office, threw the morning, paper aside. "It's
no use," he said, turning to the office boy, "I don't believe they
ever will find him, dead or alive. Whoever put up the job on Diotti
was a past grand master at that sort of thing. The silent assassin
that lurks in the shadow of the midnight moon is an explosion of
dynamite compared to the party that made way with Diotti. You ask, why
should they kill him? My boy, you don't know the world. They were
jealous of his enormous hit, of our dazzling success. Jealousy did
it."

The "they" of Perkins comprised rival managers, rival artists,
newspaper critics and everybody at large who would not concede that
the attractions managed by Perkins were the "greatest on earth."

"We'll never see his like again--come in!" this last in answer to a
knock.

Diotti appeared at the open door. Perkins jumped like one shot from a
catapult, and rushing toward the silent figure in the doorway
exclaimed: "Bless my soul, are you a ghost?"

"A substantial one," said Diotti with a smile.

"Are you really here?" continued the astonished impresario, using
Diotti's arm as a pump handle and pinching him at the same time.

When they were seated Perkins plied Diotti with all manner of
questions: "How did it happen?" "How did you escape?" and the like,
all of which Diotti parried with monosyllabic replies, finally saying:
"I was dissatisfied with my playing and went away to study."

"Do you know that the failure to fulfill your contract has cost me at
least ten thousand dollars?" said the shrewd manager, the commercial
side of his nature asserting itself.

"All of which I will pay," quietly replied the artist. "Besides I am
ready to play now, and you can announce a concert within a week if you
like."

"If I like?" cried the hustling Perkins. "Here, James," calling his
office boy, "run down to the printer's and give him this," making a
note of the various sizes of "paper" he desired, "and tell Mr.
Tompkins that Diotti i