asked, at last.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

It is probable that he got the truth out of her, perhaps all of
it. That will remain a matter of doubt; Cora's evidence, if she
gave it, not being wholly trustworthy in cases touching herself.
But she felt no need of mentioning to any one that she had seen
her former lover that day. He had gone before the return of
Enfield, Mr. Trumble's assistant, who was a little later than
usual, it happened; and the extreme nervousness and preoccupation
exhibited by Cora in telling Enfield of his employer's new plans
were attributed by the cashier to the natural agitation of a lady
about to wed in a somewhat unusual (though sensible) manner.

It is the more probable that she told Ray the whole truth, because
he already knew something of Corliss's record abroad. On the dusty
desk in Ray's own office lay a letter, received that morning from
the American Consul at Naples, which was luminous upon that
subject, and upon the probabilities of financial returns for the
investment of a thousand dollars in the alleged oil-fields of
Basilicata.

In addition, Cora had always found it very difficult to deceive
Vilas: he had an almost perfect understanding of a part of her
nature; she could never far mislead him about herself. With her,
he was intuitive and jumped to strange, inconsistent, true
conclusions, as women do. He had the art of reading her face, her
gestures; he had learned to listen to the tone of her voice more
than to what she said. In his cups, too, he had fitful but almost
demoniac inspirations for hidden truth.

And, remembering that Cora always "got even," it remains finally
to wonder if she might not have told him everything at the
instance of some shadowy impulse in that direction. There may have
been a luxury in whatever confession she made; perhaps it was not
entirely forced from her, and heaven knows how she may have
coloured it. There was an elusive, quiet satisfaction somewhere in
her subsequent expression; it lurked deep under the surface of the
excitement with which she talked to Enfield of her imminent
marital abduction of his small boss.

Her agitation, a relic of the unknown interview just past,
simmered down soon, leaving her in a becoming glow of colour, with
slender threads of moisture brilliantly outlining her eyelids. Mr.
Enfield, a young, well-favoured and recent importation from
another town, was deliciously impressed by the charm of the
waiting lady. They h