She laughed mockingly.

"My dear father," she protested, "you are certainly not yourself this
morning."

"I saw you swinging," he muttered, "swinging by that piece of cord!
There was a great black pin through your heart. Elizabeth, if he
should get away sometime! If some one should come over from America
and discover where he was! If he should find us out! Oh, my God, if he
should find us out!"

Elizabeth had risen to her feet. She was standing now before the fire,
her left elbow resting upon the mantelpiece, a trifle of silver gleaming
in her right hand.

"Father," she said, "there is no danger in life for those who know no
fear. Look at me."

His eyes sought hers, fascinated.

"If he should find me out," she continued, "it would be no such terrible
thing, after all. It would be the end."

Her fingers disclosed the little ornament she was carrying--a tiny
pistol. She slipped it back into her pocket. The man was wondering how
such a thing as this came to be his daughter.

"You have courage, Elizabeth," he whispered.

"I have courage," she assented, "because I have brains. I never allow
myself to be in a position where I should be likely to get the worst
of it. Ever since the day when he turned so suddenly against me, I have
been careful."

Her father leaned towards her.

"Elizabeth," he said, "I never really understood. What was it that came
over him so suddenly? One day he was your slave, the next I think he
would have murdered you if he could."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Honestly," she replied, "I felt it impossible to keep up the sham any
longer. I married Wenham Gardner in New York because he was supposed to
be a millionaire and because it seemed to be the best thing to do, but
as to living with him, I never meant that. You know how ridiculous his
behavior was on the boat. He never let me out of his sight, but swore
that he was going to give up smoking and drinking and lead a new life
for my sake. I really believe he meant it, too."

"Wouldn't it have been better, dear," her father suggested, timidly, "to
have encouraged him?"

She shook her head.

"He was absolutely hopeless," she declared. "You say that I have no
nerves; that is because I do not allow myself to suffer. If I had gone
on living with Wenham, it would have driven me mad. His habits, his
manner of life, everything disgusted me. Until I came to see so much of
him, I never understood what the term 'decadent' really can mean. Th