m until she comes home!"

"Good God!" Macheson murmured. "You unspeakable blackguard!"

He glanced at the clock. It was past midnight.

"What time was she expected home?" he demanded.

"Soon after eleven! She was only dining out. He--he swore that he only
wanted to talk to her, to threaten her with exposure. She deserved that!
But he is a madman. When I left him I was afraid. He carries a knife
always, and he kept on saying that she was his wife. I left him there
waiting--and when I wanted him to promise that there should be no
violence, he laughed at me. He is hidden in her room. I thought that it
was only money he wanted--but--but----"

Macheson flung him on one side. He caught up his hat and rushed out of
the club.

CHAPTER XVI

MAN TO MAN

Hortense smiled softly to herself as she laid down the ivory-backed
brushes. What did it mean, she wondered, when her mistress went out with
tired eyes and pallid cheeks, and came home with the colour of a rose
and eyes like stars, humming an old French love-song, and her feet
moving all the time to some unheard music? It was years since she had
seen her like this! Hortense knew the signs and was well pleased. At
last, then, the household was to be properly established. A woman as
beautiful as her mistress without a lover was to Hortense an
incomprehensible thing.

"You can go now, Hortense," her mistress ordered. "I will have my coffee
half an hour earlier to-morrow morning."

"Very good, madame," the girl answered. "There is nothing else to-night,
then?"

"Nothing, thank you," Wilhelmina answered. "You had better go to bed
now. I have been keeping you up rather late the last few evenings. We
must both turn over a new leaf."

Hortense departed, smiling to herself. It was always like this--when it
came. One thought of others and one wanted to be alone. She, too,
hummed a few bars of that love-song as she climbed the stairs to her
room.

Wilhelmina rose from her chair and stood for a moment looking at herself
in the long, oval looking-glass. Hortense had chosen for her a French
dressing-jacket, with the palest of light blue ribbons drawn through the
lace. Wilhelmina looked at herself and smiled. Was it the light, the
colouring, or was she really still so good to look at? Her hair, falling
over her shoulders, was long and silky, the lines seemed to have been
smoothed out of her face--she was like herself when she had been a girl!
She followed the slender li