anelled
_fleur-de-lis_ of Florence, nor the crimson and gold of the embossed
leather seat.

As he and Helen together loosed Ronnie's collar and tie, she whispered:
"Did--_you_--see?"

"This is no time for staring into mirrors," said Dr. Dick, crossly. "I
saw that _I_ need a good wash; and _you_, some sal-volatile! But we
shall have plenty to do for Ronnie before we can find leisure to think
of ourselves. Send a couple of men here; sturdy fellows whom you can
trust. Order that car to the door; then bring me a pencil, a sheet of
note-paper and an envelope. There is just one man in the world who can
help us now, and we must have him here with as little delay as
possible."

When Helen had left the room, Dick glanced furtively over his shoulder
into the mirror.

The Italian chair, in the reflection, now lay broken on the floor!

"Hum!" said Dr. Dick. "Not bad, that--for an Infant! Precocious, I call
it. We must have that 'cello re-christened the '_Demon_ of Prague'!"

CHAPTER XIII

RONNIE FACES THE UPAS

Ronnie had walked from his wife's sitting-room, along the corridor and
into the studio, in a state of stunned stupefaction.

He carried his 'cello in one hand, its case and bow, which he had picked
up in the hall, in the other; but he had for the moment completely
forgotten the Infant.

He leaned it against a chair, laid down the case, closed the studio
door; then walked to the fireplace.

He stood looking at the great crackling logs, and into the glowing heart
of the fire beneath them.

"Utterly, preposterously, altogether, selfish," he repeated slowly.
"That is what my wife considers me; that is as I appear to Helen.
Utterly--preposterously--altogether--selfish. She is so lovely--she is
so perfect! I--I have longed for her so! But _I_ am utterly,
preposterously, altogether, selfish!"

He put his arms upon the mantel-piece and dropped his head upon them. He
felt a queer contraction in his throat, a stinging beneath his eyelids,
such as he had not experienced since the days of childish mortifications
and sorrows. But the instinctive manliness of him, held back the actual
tears. He was debarred, even in solitude, from that form of relief.

Presently he lifted his head, took out his pocket-book, and wrote down
the words, spelling each with a capital letter.

He looked long at them; then suddenly exclaimed: "U, P, A, S! Why, it is
the Upas tree; the deadly, mysterious, poisonous Upas tree! I found it