nwiddie were walking away from the house;
Osborne had driven off with Judge Trent. "Do you still think her a
base impostor?"

"Don't know what I think and don't much care. She can pack me in her
trunk, as we boys used to say. She's a great lady and a charming
woman; as little doubt about the first as the last. She's like Mary
Ogden and she isn't. I suppose she might be merely a member of the
same family--with several thousand ancestors where types must have
reappeared again and again. If she wants New York Society, especially
if she wants money for those starving children, I'll go the limit. But
I'm going to find out about her all the same. I'll hunt up Harry
Thornhill tomorrow--he's a recluse but he'll see me--and I'll get on
the track of some Hungarian refugee. She can't be the usual rank
impostor, that's positive. She has the same blood as Mary in her
veins, and if she's Mary's daughter and wishes to keep it dark, that's
her business. I'll never give her away."

"Well, good luck. Glad it went off so well."

They parted at the door of Mr. Dinwiddie's rooms and Clavering walked
slowly home in an extremely thoughtful mood. He felt an uneasy
distrust of the Countess Josef Zattiany, and he was not even sure that
he liked her.

On the following Monday night, however, he was by no means averse from
making a notable personal score. As Abbott, a dramatic critic, who
happened to sit next to Madame Zattiany, made his usual hurried exit at
the falling of the first curtain Clavering slipped into the vacant
chair. She smiled a welcome, but it was impossible to talk in the
noise. This was a great first-night. One of the leading actresses of
America had returned in an excellent play, and her admirers, who
appeared to be a unit, were clapping and stamping and shouting:
handkerchiefs fluttered all over the house. When the curtain descended
after the fifteenth recall and the lights went up and demonstration
gave place to excited chatter, Madame Zattiany held out her hand toward
Clavering.

"See! I have split my glove. I caught the enthusiasm. How
generous your people are! I never heard such whole-souled,
such--ah--unself-conscious response."

"Oh, we like to let go sometimes and the theatre is a safe place. One
of the best things that can be said for New York, by the way, is its
loyalty to two or three actresses no longer young. The whole country
has gone crazy over youth. The most astonishingly bad boo