ken by the limousine. And, when he came to Black's number,
he saw the limousine drawn up, waiting. In the upper story of the small
but expensive house lights burned. He pressed the electric button,
sighing his relief. He was grimly determined to see the thing through.
His resolution was stimulated by his memory of the queue, coiled like a
serpent, watching to strike with fangs bearing the poison of degradation
and death. Nora stood within reach of that, perhaps, was already its
victim. So when the door was opened by a sleek serving-man, he did not
hesitate.

"I must see Mr. Black."

The servant displayed a mild astonishment at his tone.

"I'm sorry, sir. Mr. Black is not at home."

The lights he had noticed upstairs and the limousine gave Garth
confidence.

"Mr. Black," he said, "is the brother-in-law of the president of the
Society for Social Justice."

The servant nodded.

"Then he will see me."

The other was shocked.

"Really, sir--"

Garth gave him a glimpse of his badge, pushed past, and entered the
reception hall. The servant turned, staring at him with insolent eyes.

"You'll have to get out of here. Mr. Black has no official connection
with the society. What do you mean by forcing--"

Garth called:

"Mr. Black! Mr. Black!"

The servant tried to catch his arm.

"This is outrageous."

"Mr. Black!" Garth called again.

And the response he had prayed for, the response he had made up his mind
to force at all hazards, came quavering from the upper floor.

"Who is that? What's all this row, Arnold?"

Garth sprang up the stairs, eager and relieved at the quality of the
voice. The young man of the limousine stood at the head, bending
anxiously over, backed against the railing, as if to repel an assault.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Black," Garth said hurriedly. "I have to speak to you
about something too important for delay."

He paused, embarrassed, reluctant to go on, for in the brightly lighted
doorway of the living-room a woman had appeared, small, with an
extraordinary grace of figure, and a face which, in a trivial,
light-hearted way, impressed him as rarely beautiful. She wore evening
dress. A wrap was draped across her arm. Her resemblance to Manford
established her identity beyond debate. She glanced at Garth with an
amused curiosity quite at variance with her husband's emotion. She
smiled tolerantly.

"Quite like a bearer of evil tidings in a play, but even they don't come
upstairs, unannoun