iver.

"Yes, Mr. Harleston is here," he replied, passing the receiver across.

"Yes," said Harleston. "Oh, how do you do, Mrs. Clephane.... Very nice,
indeed.... Be delighted!... In ten minutes, I'll be there. Good-bye." He
pushed back the instrument. "Mrs. Clephane has telephoned that she must
see me at once. Meanwhile--the key-word, my friend."

Carpenter drummed on the table, and frowned at the door that had closed
behind Harleston.

"The man's bewitched," he muttered. "However I threw a slight scare into
him, and maybe it will make him pause; he is not quite devoid of sense.
Bah! All women are vampires."

XIII

THE MARQUIS

"Mrs. Clephane will be right down, Mr. Harleston," said the telephone
operator.

A moment later the elevator flashed into sight, and Mrs. Clephane
stepped out and came forward with the languorously lithe step, perfectly
in keeping with her slender figure. She wore a dark blue street suit,
and under her small hat her glorious hair flamed like an incandescent
aureole. She greeted Harleston with an intimate little nod and smile.

"You're good to come!" she said.

"To myself, I think I'm more than good," he answered.

"No, no, sir!" she smiled. "No more compliments between us, if we're to
be friends."

"We're to be _friends_," he returned.

"_Ergo_," she replied. "Sit down just a minute, will you?"

"I'll sit down for a month, if you're--"

"_Ergo! Ergo!_" she reminded him.

"I had not gotten used to the unusual restriction" he exclaimed. "You're
the first woman ever I met or heard of who dislikes compliments."

"I don't dislike compliments, Mr. Harleston; but compliments, it seems,
are given in diplomacy for a purpose; and as I don't understand anything
of diplomacy we would better cut them out--until we have finished with
diplomacy. Then you may offer as many as you like, and I'll believe them
or not as I'm minded."

"Have it as you wish!" he smiled, looking into the brown eyes with frank
admiration.

"Compliments may be conveyed by looks as well as by words," she
reproved.

"But of the feeling that prompts the look you can be in no doubt.
Moreover, a look is silent."

"Nonsense," said she. "Besides, I want to ask you a favour. You see, I'm
prepared to go out--and I want you to go with me. Will you do it?"

"It will have to be mightily against my conscience to make me refuse
_you_," Harleston replied.

"I'm glad you recognize a conscience," she remarked.

"I