t another. And, Marston, don't miss the copy of the letter;
I'll expect you with it at seven; we'll make the translation together,
either here or on the train to New York. You're to accompany me, you
know. I've an appointment at one, and another at four, but I'll be here
at seven. If I'm detained, wait."

When Marston had gone she turned over and composed herself for sleep--it
was two hours until she had need to array herself for luncheon and
Snodgrass.... Yes, Snodgrass was a very good-looking chap; her drive
with him last night had been very satisfactory; he had the requisite
wealth, so it might be just as well to let him become fascinated. It
would be at least a momentary diversion; something to occupy her for the
loss of Harleston. She closed her eyes--and shivered ever so little.
Damn Mrs. Clephane! But for her she would not have lost him.

She flung off the cover and sprang up. There was a chance left and she
would try it. If it failed, she would not lose more than she had already
lost. If it won, she won Harleston!

XX

PLAYING THE GAME

She threw a kimono around her and hastened to the telephone.

"Get me," she said to the hotel central, "Mr. Harleston at the
Collingwood, the Cosmopolitan Club, or the State Department."

"I'll call you," said the operator--and Madeline Spencer leaned back in
her chair and waited.

Presently the call came.

"I have Mr. Harleston for you," said the operator and switched on the
trunk.

"Where are you, Guy?--this is Madeline Spencer," said she.

"I'm at the Collingwood, Madeline. Anything I can do for you?" was the
answer.

"Yes. Be here in an hour; I must see you."

"Important?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there at ten-thirty."

"You're always good!" said she softly.

"Not always," he laughed, "but I will be this time."

She dressed in feverish haste, yet with great care and attention to
effects. Her gown was a lustreless black silk, trimmed with gold and
made as plain as her modiste would--and the styles permitted. Her hair
was piled high, with an elongated twist; her dead-white complexion was
unmarred by powder or rouge, and beneath the transparent skin the blood
pulsed softly pink.

Her toilet finished, and passed upon in the mirror, she sent her maid on
a shopping expedition which would occupy her until noon, and even
hurried her off. She wanted no one about, not even Elise, when she made
her last play at Harleston.

Elise gone five minutes before