failure. And each time he learnt a little more. At last, with that
sympathetic spontaneity which was his chief charm, Dormer Colville laid
his hand confidentially on Turner's sleeve.

"Frankly, old fellow," he said, "are you going to pull it through?"

"Frankly, old fellow, I am," was the reply, which made Colville glance
hastily at the clock.

"Gad!" he exclaimed, "look at the time. You have kept me gossiping the
whole afternoon. Must be off. Nobody will be better pleased than I am
to hear the good news. But of course I am mum. Not a word will they hear
from me. I AM glad. Good-bye."

"I dare say you are," murmured Turner to the closed door.

Dormer Colville was that which is known as an opportunist. It was a dull
grey afternoon. He would be sure to find Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence at
home. She had taken an apartment in the Rue de Lille in the St. Germain
quarter. His way was past the flower-shop, where he sometimes bestowed a
fickle custom. He went in and bought a carnation for his buttonhole.

It is to be presumed that John Turner devoted the afternoon to his
affairs. It was at all events evening before he also bent his steps
toward the Rue de Lille.

Yes, the servant told him, Madame was at home and would assuredly see
him. Madame was not alone. No. It was, however, only Monsieur Colville,
who was so frequent a visitor.

Turner followed the servant along the corridor. The stairs had rather
tried one who had to elevate such a weight at each step; he breathed
hard, but placidly.

Mrs. St. Pierre Lawrence received him with an unusual empressement.
Dormer Colville, who was discovered sitting as far from her as the size
of the room allowed, was less eager, but he brought forward a chair for
the banker and glanced sharply at his face as he sat down.

"So glad to see you," the hostess explained. "It is really kind of you
to come and cheer one up on such a dull afternoon. Dormer and I--won't
you take off your coat? No, let ME put it aside for you. Dormer and I
were just--just saying how dull it was. Weren't we?"

She looked from one to the other with a rather unnatural laugh. One
would have thought that she was engaged in carrying off a difficult
situation and, for so practised a woman of the world, not doing it very
well. Her cheeks were flushed, which made her look younger, and a subtle
uncertainty in her voice and manner added to this illusion charmingly.
For a young girl's most precious possession is her inex