a force which made itself felt.

"It is over--that!" he said. "I am a man who knows when he has been
ill-treated; who knows, too, what it is that a wife owes to her husband.
Tell me where it is that she lives, old man. Write it down."

Johnson drew from his pocket a stump of pencil and the back of an
envelope. He wrote slowly and with care. Jean le Roi extended the palm
of his hand to Stephen Hurd.

"He will warn madame, perhaps," he suggested. "Why does he sit here with
us, this young man? Is it that he, too, wants money?"

"No! no! my son," Johnson intervened hastily. "Madame treated him
badly. He would not be sorry to see her humiliated."

Jean le Roi smiled.

"It shall be done," he promised. "But from one of you I must have money.
I cannot present myself before my wife so altered. No one would believe
my story."

"How much do you want?" Hurd asked uneasily.

"Twenty pounds English," Jean le Roi answered. "I cannot resume my
appearance as a gentleman on less."

Hurd took out some notes.

"I will lend you that," he said slowly.

Jean le Roi's long fingers took firm hold of the notes. He buttoned them
up in his pocket, slapped the place where they were, and poured out more
brandy.

"Now," he said, "I am prepared. Madame shall discover what it means to
deceive her fond husband!"

Hurd moved in his seat uneasily. There was something ominous in the
villainous curve of the man's lips--in the utter absence of any direct
threats. What was it that was passing in his mind?

"You are not thinking of any violence?" he asked. "Remember she is a
proud woman, and you cannot punish her more than by simply appearing and
declaring yourself."

Jean le Roi smiled.

"We shall see," he declared.

CHAPTER XIII

THE KING OF THE APACHES

Wilhelmina was resting--and looked in need of it. All the delicate
colours and fluttering ribbons of her Doucet dressing-jacket could not
hide the pallor of her cheeks, or the hollows under her eyes. Macheson,
who came in sternly enough, felt himself moved to a troublous pity.
Nothing seemed left of the great lady--or the "poseuse"!

"You are kind," she murmured, "to come so soon. Sit down, please!"

"Is there any trouble?" he asked. "You look worried."

She laughed unnaturally.

"No wonder," she answered. "For five years I have been living more or
less on the brink of a volcano. From what I have heard, I fancy that an
eruption is about due."

"Tell me about it," he a