d-December at the same hour. But the rendezvous was brilliantly
lighted, and the reappearance of the climbers, whose chances of safety
had been eagerly debated since the snow storm began, drew all eyes.
Someone had whispered too that the beautiful woman who arrived from
St. Moritz half an hour earlier, who sat in her furs and sipped her
tea after a long conversation with a clerk in the bureau, was none
other than Millicent Jaques, the dancer, one of the leading lights of
English musical comedy.

The peepers and whisperers little dreamed that she could be awaiting
the party from the Forno. Now that her vigil was explained, for Bower
had advanced with ready smile and outstretched hand, the Wraggs and
Vavasours and de la Veres--all the little coterie of gossips and
scandalmongers--were drawn to the center of the hall like steel
filings to a magnet.

Millicent ignored Bower. She was young enough and pretty enough to
feel sure of her ability to deal with him subsequently. Her cornflower
blue eyes glittered. They held something of the quiet menace of a
crevasse. She had traveled far for revenge, and she did not mean to
forego it. Helen, whose second impulse was to kiss her affectionately,
with excited clamor of welcome and inquiry, stood rooted to the floor
by her friend's strange words.

"I--I am so surprised----" she half stammered in an agony of confused
doubt; and that was the only lame phrase she could utter during a few
trying seconds.

Bower frowned. He hated scenes between women. With his first glimpse
of Millicent he guessed her errand. For Helen's sake, in the presence
of that rabbit-eared crowd, he would not brook the unmerited flood of
sarcastic indignation which he knew was trembling on her lips.

"Miss Wynton has had an exhausting day," he said coolly. "She must go
straight to her room, and rest. You two can meet and talk after
dinner." Without further preamble, he took Helen's arm.

Millicent barred the way. She did not give place. Again she paid no
heed to the man. "I shall not detain you long," she said, looking only
at Helen, and speaking in a low clear voice that her stage training
rendered audible throughout the large hall. "I only wished to assure
myself that what I was told was true. I found it hard to believe, even
when I saw your name written up in the hotel. Before I go, let me
congratulate you on your conquest--and Mr. Mark Bower on his," she
added, with clever pretense of afterthought.

Hel