wonder.

Yes, Farrington had insisted upon carrying out his plans, knowing the
power he held, and he, Poltavo, had accepted the ultimatum in all
meekness of spirit.

"I must be losing my nerve," he muttered. "Married in a week! Am I to
give her up, this gracious, beautiful girl--with her future, or without
her fortune?"

He smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile to see. "No, my friend, I
think you have gone a little too far. You depended too much upon my
acquiescence. Ernesto, _mon ami_, you have to do some quick thinking
between now and next Monday."

A telephone buzzed at his elbow, and he took it off and listened.

"Yes?" he asked, and then he recognized the speaker's voice, and his
voice went soft and caressing, for it was the voice of Doris Gray that
he heard.

"Can you see me to-morrow?" she asked.

"I can see you to-day, my lady, at once, if you wish it," he said,
lightly.

There was a little hesitation at the other end of the wire.

"If you could, I should feel glad," she said. "I am rather troubled."

"Not seriously, I hope?" he asked, anxiously.

"I have had a letter from some one," she said, meaningly.

"I think I understand," he replied; "some one wishes you to do a thing
which is a repugnant to you."

"I cannot say that," she said, and there was despair in her voice; "all
I know is that I am bewildered by the turn events have taken. Do you
know the contents of the letter?"

"I know," he said, gently; "it was my misfortune to be the bearer of the
communication."

"What do you think?" she asked, after a while.

"You know what I think," he said, passionately. "Can you expect me to
agree to this?"

The intensity of his voice frightened her, and she rapidly strove to
bring him down to a condition of normality.

"Come to-morrow," she said, hastily. "I would like to talk it over with
you."

"I will come at once," he said.

"Perhaps you had better not," she hesitated.

"I am coming at once," he said, firmly, and hung up the receiver.

In that moment of resentment against the tyranny of his employer, he
forgot all the dangers which the Secret House threatened; all its swift
and wicked vengeance. He only knew, with the instinct of a beast of prey
who saw its quarry stolen under its very eyes, the loss which this man
was inflicting upon him. Five minutes later he was in Brakely Square
with the girl. She was pale and worried; there were dark circles round
her eyes which spoke eloquently o