disposition than this eagerness to believe the
worst of the woman she chose to consider her rival in the affections
of Mrs. Gosnold. A pitiful, impotent, jealousy-bitten creature: Sally
was almost sorry for her, picturing the abashment of the woman when
her hopes proved fruitless, her, fawning overtures toward forgiveness
and reconciliation. Possibly she had been one of the two to accuse
Sally on the cards.

The other? Not Mrs. Standish. She would hardly direct suspicion
against the girl she despised when by so doing she would imperil her
own schemes. She was too keenly selfish to cut off her nose to spite
her face. Sally could imagine Mrs. Standish as remaining all this
while conspicuously aloof, overseeing the search with her habitual
manner of weary toleration, but inwardly more than a little tremulous
with fear lest the detective or Mercedes chance upon that jewel-case
and so upset her claim against the burglary-insurance concern.

Lyttleton, too, would in all likelihood be standing aside, posing with
a nonchalant shoulder against the wall, his slender, nicely manicured
fingers stroking his scrubby moustache (now that he had discarded the
beard of Sir Francis, together with his mask) and not quite hiding the
smirk of his contemptible satisfaction--the satisfaction of one who
had lied needlessly, meanly, out of sheer spite, and successfully,
since his lie, being manufactured out of whole cloth, could never be
controverted save by the worthless word of the woman libelled.

More than probably Lyttleton had been the other anonymous informant.

And whatever the outcome of this sickening affair (Sally told herself
with a shudder of disgust) she might thank her lucky stars for this
blessing, that she had been spared the unspeakable ignominy of not
finding Mr. Lyttleton out before it was too late.

Trego, too; though she could consider a little more compassionately
the poor figure Trego cut, with his pretensions to sturdy common sense
dissipated and exposing the sentimentalist so susceptible that he was
unable to resist the blandishments of the first woman who chose to set
her cap for him. Poor thing: he would suffer a punishment even beyond
his deserts when Mrs. Artemas had consummated her purpose and bound
him legally to her.

For all that, Sally felt constrained to admit, Trego had been in a
measure right in his contention, though it had needed his folly to
persuade her of his wisdom. She was out of her element her