it was hideous! The poor thing's vengeance was theatrical and paltry,
but what of the man, wherever he was? What did he think of himself now,
with his millions and his murder? Yes, his murder, for what else was it?

An hour later Glory was ringing the bell of a little house in St. John's
Wood whereof the upper blinds were drawn. The grating of the garden door
slid back and an untidy head looked out.

"Well, ma'am?"

"Don't you remember me, Liza?"

"Lawd, yus, miss!" and the door was opened immediately; "but I was afeard
you was one o' them reportin' people, and my orders is not to answer no
questions."'

"Has _he_ been here, then?"

"Blesh ye, no, miss! He's on 'is way to the Continents. But 'is friend
'as, and he's settled everything 'andsome--I will say that for the
gentleman."

Glory felt her gall rising; there was something degrading, almost
disreputable, even in the loyalty of Drake's friendship.

"Fancy Liza not knowing you, miss, and me at the moosic 'all a Tuesday
night! I 'ope you'll excuse the liberty, but I _did_ laugh, and I won't
say but I shed a few tears too. Arranged? Yes, the jury and the coroner
and every-think. It's to be at twelve o'clock, so you may think I've 'ad
my 'ands full. But you'll want to look at 'er, pore thing! Go up, miss,
and mind yer 'ead; there's nobody but 'er friends with 'er now."

The friends proved to be Betty Belmont and her dressing-room companions.
When Glory entered they showed no surprise. "The pore child told us all
about you," said Betty; and the little one said: "It's your nyme that
caught on, dear. The minute I heard it I said what a top-line for a
bill!"

It was the same little bandbox of a bedroom, only now it was darkened and
Polly's troubles were over. There was a slightly convulsed look about the
mouth, but the features were otherwise calm and childlike, for all the
dead are innocent.

The three women with demure faces were sipping Benedictine and talking
among themselves, and Polly's pug dog was coiled up on the bare bolster
and snoring audibly.

"Pore thing! I don't know how she could 'a done it. But there, that's the
worst of this life! It's all in the present and leads to nothing and
ain't got no future." "What could the pore thing do? She wasn't so
wonderful pretty; and then men like----" "She was str'ight with him, say
what yer like. Only she ought to been more patienter, and she needn't 'a
been so hard on the lady, neither." "She had everythin