at there in silence.

"That is a pretty gown," he said pleasantly.

"What! Oh!" Young Mrs. Malcourt bent her head, gazing fixedly at the
sealed letter in her hand. The faint red of annoyance touched her
pallor--perhaps because her chamber-robe suggested an informality
between them that was impossible.

"I have written to my father and mother," she said, "about the
securities."

"Have you?" he said grimly.

"Yes. And, Louis, I forgot to tell you that Mr. Cuyp telephoned me
yesterday assuring me that everything had been transferred and recorded
and that my father could use everything in an emergency--if it comes as
you thought possible.... And I--I wish to say"--she went on in a
curiously constrained voice--"that I appreciate what you have done--what
you so willingly gave up--"

An odd smile hovered on Malcourt's lips:

"Nonsense," he said. "One couldn't give up what one never had and never
wanted.... And you say that it was all available yesterday?"

"Available!"

"At the order of Cardross, Carrick & Co.?"

"Mr. Cuyp said so."

"You made over all those checks to them?"

"Yes. Mr. Cuyp took them away."

"And that Lexington Avenue stuff?"

"Deeded and recorded."

"The bonds?"

"Everything is father's again."

"Was it yesterday?"

"Yes. Why?"

"You are absolutely certain?"

"Mr. Cuyp said so."

Malcourt slowly rolled a cigarette and held it, unlighted, in his
nervous fingers. Young Mrs. Malcourt watched him, but her mind was on
other things.

Presently he rose, and she looked up as though startled painfully from
her abstraction.

"You ought to turn in," he said quietly. "Good night."

"Good night."

He went out and started to descend the stairs; but somebody was banging
at the lower door, entering clumsily, and in haste.

"Louis!" panted Portlaw, "they say Hamil is dying--"

"Damn you," whispered Malcourt fiercely, "will you shut your cursed
mouth!"

Then slowly he turned, leaden-footed, head hanging, and ascended the
stairs once more to the room where his wife had been. She was standing
there, pale as a corpse, struggling into a heavy coat.

"Did you--hear?"

"Yes."

He aided her with her coat.

"Do you think you had better go over?"

"Yes, I must go."

She was trembling so that he could scarcely get her into the coat.

"Probably," he said, "Portlaw doesn't know what he's talking about....
Shiela, do you want me to go with you--"

"No--no! Oh, hurry--"

She was crying