tation before
the secretary returned to the library.

This time he entered and pretended to be hunting for a magazine.
Pauline's disconsolate face gave him the excuse he desired.

"Why, Miss Marvin, has anything happened?" he asked in a tone of
concern.

"Oh, everything has gone wrong," she cried, almost in tears.

"What do you mean?"

"Harry is called to the city just when we are invited to Sophie
McCallan's wedding, and Farrell has taken the limousine for some silly
repairs. They'll not get back; I know they'll not. They never do."

"But, Miss Marvin?"

"Oh, don't try to apologize for him. He cares more for his old
business than he does for me. He makes automobiles himself, and yet I
can't have enough for my own personal use. I'm sorry I forgave him,"
she flared.

"You are right, Miss Marvin; it is an outrage."

She looked at Owen in astonishment. It was the first time she had ever
heard him venture a critical word against Harry.

"I think it is your fault," she declared. "You are the one who should
see that I have cars and drivers--everything I want."

"But you know the machines have not come from the town house, Miss
Marvin. They will be here tomorrow."

"Well, Owen, it isn't for you to say that what my brother does is an
outrage. He does everything for the best."

"Miss Marvin, Harry is lying to you," he said quietly. "He and your
chauffeur have formed a plot against you. Your car will not be back
this afternoon at all."

She sprang to her feet, furious.

"Owen, be still! How do you dare to say such things?"

Raymond Owen had found his great moment, His enemy had set his own
trap and Owen would see that he should not escape easily. The
opportunity to break forever the bond of faith and affection between
Harry and Pauline had come. His voice rose as he poured out his
revelations and denunciations.

Pauline was leaving the room, when he thrust himself before her.

"You must hear me. I know what I say is true. It hurts me as deeply
as it will hurt you, but you must hear it. I believe I have discovered
--by the merest accident--the cause of all your perils. The plots
against you have been arranged at home."

"You are mad. I will not listen to you. Let me pass."

"Not until you have heard," he declared firmly.

"I was passing the door of the garage only a few moments ago," he went
on in a rapid whisper. "I saw Farrell at the telephone. He called the
private house number