Adrien Leroy. Charles Garvice

at the Thessalian. I left him there with Mortimer Shelton."

      "I hate that man," said Miss Lester viciously.

      "So do I," agreed Vermont, "but I don't say so. Anyhow, Adrien's safe there for another hour, and I came on to give you a word of warning."

      He turned to her companion, who had been quietly finishing her supper as if unconscious of anyone's presence.

      "Julia, you look tired; you'd better get off to bed."

      She rose and hesitated for a moment, looking from him to Ada; then quietly left the room. Vermont gazed after her, much as he would have watched a useless piece of furniture in course of removal; then he leant back in his chair, and, before resuming, regarded fixedly Ada's flushed, handsome face.

      "Well?" she queried, impatiently striking the table with her fork.

      Jasper leant forward and spoke with calm, unpleasant deliberation.

      "Ada," said he, "there was once a person who killed the goose that laid him golden eggs; there was another who beat his horse till it pitched him into the ditch; but neither of these attained such a height of folly as Miss Lester bids fair to reach, if she persists in worrying her prize donkey into kicking her to the ground and leaving her in the mud."

      "Oh, don't be an idiot, Jasper!" she exclaimed irritably. "Speak out plain, can't you?"

      "I certainly can, and will, my dear lady. To put it plainly, then, you are going the quickest way to make Adrien tired of you. After all, if you happen to possess a goose with the propensity to lay golden eggs, surely it is wise to humour him. And if the said goose happens to dislike the smell of onions, why fill the house with that particular perfume, sufficient to suffocate an elephant? Again, is it not the height of folly to stick plaster statues on the staircase which he ascends daily, when you know this particular goose detests imitation art? In short, my dear Ada, if you persist in thrusting vulgarity down his throat, you will find yourself very soon out of the graces of our friend, Adrien Leroy."

      Ada, who had been beating a loud tattoo with the fork which she still held in her hand, sprang to her feet and struck the table with a force which set the glasses jingling.

      "Jasper!" she almost shouted. "You'll drive me mad! Why don't you speak out and say what you mean? What's the matter with Adrien? What does he want? Aren't there a hundred men who'd be glad enough to furnish a house for me as I like? And can't I even eat what I choose without Adrien Leroy's delicate nose being turned up in disapproval?"

      "You can go to the deuce, if you like, my dear," declared Jasper with a calm smile. "I merely warn you that you are on the way to finding yourself in the street, if I may be allowed to speak out. Have another cigarette, and spray some patchouli about the room. There are more geese than one, as you say; and, after all, it is hard if you can't indulge in onions in your own room at one o'clock in the morning."

      Goaded almost to desperation by the sneering sarcasm of Vermont's words, the woman threw down her fork, thereby smashing a champagne glass, and thrust her angry, flushed countenance close to his.

      "What's your game?" she hissed. "Are you playing with me and Adrien? Are you setting him against me? I know your artful tricks; but don't you play 'em on me, Jasper! What are you doing up at the Castle so often? Making yourself pleasant to old Lord Barminster's niece there, I'll be bound. P'raps she ain't fond of scent or a pork chop or two, and she can have real statues if she likes. You don't remind him of that, do you? Oh, no, of course not! But you mind your skin, Jasper, for you can't play fast and loose with me. Shuffle him on to that Constance girl, and I'll make you pay for it. I know something you wouldn't like my lord to hear about; so, if you don't want me to open my mouth and split on your little games, don't you play me any of your tricks, that's all, or I'll go straight to Adrien and tell him all!"

      She stopped, out of breath, and Jasper Vermont, springing to his feet, glared down at her in impotent fury. But she only laughed at his angry face.

      "Oh, no, you wouldn't like Adrien to know how you fooled poor Julia, though it is over twenty years ago. I haven't forgotten, if you have, how you took her over to Paris while I was away on my first tour, and went through some form of marriage with her. You wouldn't like him to know how you told her what you'd done, when there was no longer need to keep it dark from your father, and of the attack of brain fever it brought on, poor dear! You were a nice brute to her, you were, Jasper Vermont; and it's a lucky thing for you and her too that when she recovered her memory had gone, and she forgot you as well as the child."

      Jasper stirred uneasily.

      "I didn't think she would have cared so much," he said. "Besides, she's all right now; she only forgets those few years."

      "Lucky thing for you," repeated Ada dryly.

      "What have you done with the child?" he asked suddenly.

      His companion's face lighted up with malicious triumph.

      "I've put her where you can't find her, anyhow," she said. "You shan't break her heart, as you did her mother's."

      "Oh, nonsense, Ada!" said Vermont contemptuously. "Don't begin to rant--you're not on the stage now. I kept all my promises to you, at any rate. I got you on at the Rockingham and I introduced you to Leroy; and if you had only played your cards properly you would have hooked him by this time. As it is, he'll marry his cousin, if you're not careful."

      "If he does, it'll be your fault," she snarled. "And I'll tell Adrien all, and how you're fooling him in other ways as well."

      Jasper sprang across the room, his face working with anger. There was something so deadly in the light of his dark eyes, such murderous hate in every line of his face, that the woman shrank back and uttered a cry of fear, instinctively glancing at a knife which lay on the table close to Jasper's other hand.

      How far Vermont's anger might have carried him she did not know, for, to her intense relief, the door opened and Adrien Leroy himself entered the room. He gazed in surprise at the two occupants, and in an instant Jasper had regained his self-control. He did not release Ada's wrist, but, smoothing his scowl into a sleek smile, he said with a careless laugh:

      "No, Ada, your arm is as slim as ever. The bracelet will just fit you." He relaxed his grip as he spoke and turned to Leroy. "Ada has bet me that the new bracelet you bought her is too small, Adrien," he explained glibly. "She thought she was getting stout."

      Adrien nodded indifferently; while Ada, with a little cry of relief, ran towards him.

      "Adrien, how good of you to come!" she exclaimed. "I did not expect you so soon."

      Leroy did not seem to notice her, but looked round the room with evident displeasure. The table, with its remains of supper; the stained cloth; above all, the undesirable odour of food and stale tobacco; all seemed to fill him with disgust. Gently, but firmly, he put Ada from him.

      "Jasper," he said, turning to Vermont, "you know why I came. Give Miss Lester the deeds of the Casket Theatre. I am tired and am going home."

      With a courteous good-night to Ada, who, without attempting to thank him for his gift, stood scowling and sullen, he passed out of the room; while Vermont leaned back against the table with folded arms and his inevitable, but significant, smile on his face.

      CHAPTER III

       Table of Contents

      The night was bitterly cold; but, disdaining a taxi for so short a distance, Leroy buttoned up his coat and strode swiftly along towards his chambers in Jermyn Court, W. As he turned the corner of the square, he stumbled sharply over the slight figure of a girl, crouched near one of the doorsteps, and, with his habitual courtesy, he stopped to see if any harm had been done.

      "Have I hurt you?" he asked gently, placing his hand on her shoulder.

      At his touch the girl started up with a cry of distress; and,