bout his neck and laid her cheek to his. In her tones
was beguilement, in her eyes the lure of an evil thing. Her back was
turned to the door so that she did not see that it had opened suddenly
to admit someone. Both had been too preoccupied to hear the gentle
knock.

Meredith looked up and saw his wife enter,--his little Joyce, whom he
imagined was in England. For a moment he was petrified--the next instant
he shook himself free of Mrs. Dalton's embrace, and stood apart,
convicted and ashamed.

Joyce stood stock still as if paralysed, and could only murmur
conventionally, "I am sorry," purely a mechanical expression of apology
such as she would have made to a stranger. "No one answered my knock, so
I came in."

The very air was electrical. Meredith could only utter his wife's name
in blank amazement. What could he say under such damning circumstances?
Mrs. Dalton laughed hysterically.

Collecting her scattered wits, Joyce explained, reaching a hand out to a
cabinet for support: "I came out with the mails. There was a hint of
_this_, only I dared not let myself believe it. It seemed impossible
from my knowledge of you. But it appears I was wrong," her lip curled.
Turning to Mrs. Dalton she said coldly, "Perhaps you will be good enough
to leave us together?"

Standing there erect in her pride and beauty, dressed exquisitely, yet
simply, she was a revelation to the woman who had sought to rob her and
was now brazen enough to carry off the situation with effrontery.

"It was pretty smart of you to act the spy, stealing on us without
warning! However, we are not afraid. Do your worst!"

"I am waiting for you to leave the room," said Joyce with immovable
calm. Her queenlike dignity was something new to her husband, and it
commanded Mrs. Dalton's unwilling respect and obedience.

Meredith walked swiftly to the door and held it open for the lady to
pass out, his features rigid, his eyes bent on the carpet at his feet,
nor did he raise them when she brushed past him and lightly touched his
hand as it held the door-knob.

"Why didn't you cable?--or wire from Calcutta?" he asked through white
lips.

Joyce looked in scornful silence at him and then said with a perceptible
shrug, "I am glad I did neither."

"Things look pretty bad against me, I admit," he said bitterly. "Is it
any use for me to ask you not to judge me too hastily? The situation you
surprised was not of my creating."

Joyce laughed suddenly, a strain