ervention of the
female knave of the species in any of its stages. Trust him--smooth as
lubricating oil, a veritable human graphite--to turn the trick. He
turned it.

The upshot was a lovely thing, almost foolproof and practically
cop-proof. To be sure, a woman figured in it, but her part was that of
the chosen prey, not the part of an accessory and accomplice. The
greater simplicity of the device was attested by the fact that for its
mounting, from beginning to end, only three active performers were
needed. The chief role he would play. For his main supporting cast he
needed two men, and knew moreover exactly where to find them. Of these
two only one would show ever upon the stage. The other would bide out
of sight behind the scenes, doing his share of the work, unsuspected,
from under cover.

For the part which he intended her to take in his production--the part
of dupe--Mrs. Justus Propbridge was, as one might say, made to order.
Consider her qualifications: young, pretty, impressionable, vain and
inexperienced; the second wife of a man who even in these times of
suddenly inflated fortunes was reckoned to be rich; newly come out of
the boundless West, bringing a bounding social ambition with her;
spending money freely and having plenty more at command to spend when
the present supply was gone; her name appearing frequently in those
newspapers and those weekly and monthly magazines catering particularly
to the so-called smart set, which is so called, one gathers, because it
is not a set and is not particularly smart.

Young Mrs. Propbridge figured that her name was becoming tolerably well
known along the Gold Coast of the North Atlantic Seaboard. It was too.
For example, there was at least one person entirely unknown to her who
kept a close tally of her comings and her goings, of her social
activities, of her mode of daily life. This person was Vincent Marr.
Thanks to the freedom with which a certain type of journal discusses the
private and the public affairs of those men and women most commonly
mentioned in its columns, he presently had in his mind a very clear
picture of this lady, and he followed her movements, as reflected in
print, with care and fidelity; it was as though he had a deep personal
interest in her. For a matter of fact, he did; he had a very personal
interest in her. He had been doing this for months; in his trade, as in
many others, patience was not only a virtue but a necessity. For
example, h