sing can save him."

"Let the Chinaman do it!" Huntington blurted out.

Hillyer shook his head.

"No. Norris says he will not trust him. You see, Haig's pleading for
water must be denied. He can command the Chinaman, and that--Besides,
all this is not to the point. Marion has made up her mind, and I
assure you--Please get the things she asks for, Mrs. Huntington."

"You don't mean you're going to take them!" shouted Huntington.

"Certainly. She's asked for them."

"And you're going to let her stay there--with him?"

Hillyer smiled. Having abandoned all hope of assistance from
Huntington, he was thinking of other measures, and was scarcely as
attentive as he might have been to the increasing truculence of his
host.

"What would you do?" he asked quietly.

"I'd bring her away!"

"Would you care to go and try it?"

This was a keener thrust than Hillyer had any intention of delivering,
provoked though he was by Huntington's behavior; for Seth had not
included in his narrative any reference to the affair at the
post-office, or to Haig's visit to his house. Huntington's face became
purple; and if he had been apoplectic in disposition he would surely
have suffered a seizure in that moment of choking rage.

"I'll go there right enough!" he bellowed. "I'll go, when I get ready.
I'll go when he's able to stand up and take what's coming to him. As
for her--you can take her things, and her trunks too, while you're
about it."

Hillyer gazed at him dumbfounded for just a breath of time. Then his
own face flamed.

"Quite right, Mr. Huntington!" he said, taking a step toward him. "I
haven't seen much of Haig, but from what I've seen of you, I think his
house can be no worse place for Miss Gaylord than yours. What's more,
you're an--" He caught himself, whirled on his heel, and addressed
Claire. "May I ask you, please, to pack Marion's trunks. I'll attend
to mine."

Claire had stood quite silent, with her blue eyes opening wider and
wider, for the moment helpless, but trusting more to Hillyer's
resources of diplomacy than to her husband's self-control. Now her
face crimsoned with mortification, and she stood up with all the
inches of her five foot two.

"You'll do no such thing!" she cried, and one little heel came down on
the floor with a jolt. "The idea! The very idea! Oh!"

For a moment she stood poised, like a butterfly in a rage, if one can
imagine it; then she tripped straight to Huntington, clasped the
lap