ing thus dropped the seed on good soil, he left.

Fanshaw waited several weeks, waited until certain other plans of his
and Herron's were perfected. Then he suddenly deluged the sinking
flames of the divorce discussion with a huge outpouring of oil.
Indirectly and with great secrecy he sent a complete copy of the
testimony to the newspaper Herron had mentioned, the most sensational,
and one of the most widely circulated in New York.

The next morning Dumont had to ring three times for his secretary.
When Culver finally appeared he had in his trembling right hand a copy
of the News-Record. His face suggested that he was its owner,
publisher and responsible editor, and that he expected then and there
to be tortured to death for the two illustrated pages of the "Great
Fanshaw-Dumont Divorce! All the Testimony! Shocking Revelations!"

"I thought it necessary for you to know this without delay, sir," he
said in a shaky voice, as he held out the newspaper to his master.

Dumont grew sickly yellow with the first glance at those head-lines.
He had long been used to seeing extensive and highly unflattering
accounts of himself and his doings in print; but theretofore every open
attack had been on some public matter where a newspaper "pounding"
might be attributed to politics or stock-jobbery. Here--it was a
verbatim official report, and of a private scandal, more dangerous to
his financial standing than the fiercest assault upon his honesty as a
financier; for it tore away the foundation of reputation--private
character. A faithful transcript throughout, it portrayed him as a bag
of slimy gold and gilded slime. He hated his own face staring out at
him from a three-column cut in the center of the first page--its heavy
jaw, its cynical mouth, its impudent eyes. "Do I look like THAT?" he
thought. He was like one who, walking along the streets, catches sight
of his own image in a show-window mirror and before he recognizes it,
sees himself as others see him. He flushed to his temples at the
contrast with the smaller cut beside it--the face of Pauline, high and
fine icily beautiful as always in her New York days when her features
were in repose.

Culver shifted from one weak leg to the other, and the movement
reminded Dumont of his existence. "That's all. Clear out!" he
exclaimed, and fell back into his big chair and closed his eyes. He
thought he at last understood publicity.

But he was mistaken.

He finished dre