gnition was instantaneous, and it was impossible for either
to avoid the meeting if he had desired to do so.

"You in town!" said Mavick.

"And you!" Jack retorted.

"No, not really. I'm just going to catch the steamer. Short leave. We
have all been kept by that confounded Chile business."

"Going for the government?"

"No, not publicly. Of course shall confer with our minister in London.
Any news here?"

"Yes; Henderson's dead." And Jack looked Mavick squarely in the face.

"Ah!" And Mavick smiled faintly, and then said, gravely: "It was an
awful business. So sudden, you know, that I couldn't do anything." He
made a movement to pass on. "I suppose there has been no--no--"

"I suppose not," said Jack, "except that Mrs. Henderson has gone to
Europe."

"Ah!" And Mr. Mavick didn't wait for further news, but hurried up, with
a "Good-by."

So Mavick was following Carmen to Europe. Well, why not? What an unreal
world it all was, that of a few months ago! The gigantic Henderson;
Jack's own vision of a great fortune; Carmen and her house of Nero; the
astute and diplomatic Mavick, with his patronizing airs! It was like a
scene in a play.

He stepped into a shop and selected a toy for the boy. It was a real
toy, and it was for a real boy. Jack experienced a genuine pleasure at
the thought of pleasing him. Perhaps the little fellow would not know
him.

And then he thought of Edith--not of Edith the mother, but of Edith the
girl in the days of his wooing. And he went into Maillard's. The pretty
girl at the counter knew him. He was an old customer, and she had often
filled orders for him. She had despatched many a costly box to addresses
he had given her. It was in the recollection of those transactions that
he said: "A box of marrons glaces, please. My wife prefers that."

"Shall I send it?" asked the girl, when she had done it up.

"No, thanks; we are not in town."

"Of course," she said, beaming upon him; "nobody is yet."

And this girl also seemed a part of the old life, with her little
affectation of familiarity with its ways.

He went to his room--it seemed a very mean little room now--packed his
bag, told the janitor he should be absent a few days, and hurried to the
ferry and the train as if he feared that some accident would delay him.
When he was seated and the train moved off, his thoughts took another
turn. He was in for it now.

He began to regret that he had not delayed, to think it all out more