story of the man who
makes a good husband, and you can't help liking him, unless--unless
there is another man."

"There, at least, I am----" Helen hesitated. Something gripped her
heart and checked the modest protestation of her freedom.

Mrs. de la Vere laughed. "If you are not sure, you are safe," she
said, with a hard ring in her utterance that belied her easygoing
philosophy. "Really, you bring me back a lost decade. Now, Helen--may
I call you Helen?"

"Yes, indeed."

"Well, then, don't forget that my name is Edith. You have just half an
hour to dress. I need every second of the time; so off you run to your
room. As I hear Reggie flinging his boots around next door, I shall
hurry him and arrange about the table. Call for me. We must go to the
foyer together. Now kiss me, there's a dear."

Helen was wrestling with her refractory tresses--for the coiffure that
suits glaciers and Tam o'Shanters is not permissible in evening
dress--when a servant brought her a note.

"DEAR MISS WYNTON," it ran,--"If you are able to come down
to dinner, why not dine with me? Sincerely,

"CHARLES K. SPENCER."

She blushed and laughed a little. "I am in demand," she thought,
flashing a pardonable glance at her own face in the mirror. She read
the brief invitation again. Spencer had a trick of printing the K
in his signature. It caught her fancy. It suggested strength,
trustworthiness. She did not know then that one of the shrewdest
scoundrels in the Western States had already commented on certain
qualities betokened by that letter in Spencer's name.

"I cannot refuse," she murmured. "To be candid, I don't want to
refuse. What shall I do?"

Bidding the servant wait, she twisted her hair into a coil, threw a
wrap round her shoulders, and tapped on Mrs. de la Vere's door.

"_Entrez!_" cried that lady.

"I am in a bit of difficulty," said Helen. "Mr. Spencer wishes me to
dine with him. Would you----"

"Certainly. I'll ask him to join us. Reggie will see him too. Really,
Helen, this is amusing. I am beginning to suspect you."

So Spencer received a surprising answer. He read it without any sign
of the amusement Mrs. de la Vere extracted from the situation, for
Helen took care to recite the whole arrangement.

"I'm going through with this," he growled savagely, "even if I have to
drink Bower's health--damn him!"

CHAPTER XII

THE ALLIES

Seldom, if ever, has a more strangel