Till the Clock Stops

by J. J. Bell

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  "Curse that green stuff!" said Bullard under his breath. "I'd soonerhandle a bunch of live wires."

  He was standing in front of the clock, in the glow of an overhanginglamp, the only one he had switched on on entering the firelit room.

  The pendulum in its callous swing fairly blazed. There was no sound savea half-stifled, irritating ticking.

  Bullard presented rather a curious, if not uncanny, spectacle then. Hiscountenance was covered by a glass mask such as the chemist dons whilepreparing or studying some highly unstable and dangerous substance. Evenmore than death he feared pain and disfigurement. His method of dealingwith Christopher's clock had been carefully thought out. In the rainproofcoat which he wore was a respirator, oxygenated, as well as sundry littletools. For it was the green fluid that had engaged his wits mostseriously: it must be got rid of; its powers, whatever they were,dispersed, before he dared tackle the clock itself; and the dispersalmust be effected from the greatest distance possible.

  Well, he had conceived a way which promised but moderate risk to his ownperson. Having finished his brief outward examination of the clock, heproduced a disk of white paper, an inch and a half in diameter, gummed onone side. Raising the mask slightly, he moistened the disk, and appliedit to the clock's case, almost at the bottom of the reservoir. Againstthe green background the mark showed very distinctly. For a moment or twohe regarded it critically, then went to the door and turned the key. Hestepped briskly up the room, halting at the heavy brown curtains drawnacross the bay-window.

  From inside his coat he brought a gleaming weapon with a long barrel andan unusually large butt--an air pistol of great power and reliability. Inthe old South African times Bullard had been a notable shot with rifleand revolver, and practice during the last few days had shown him thathis hand and eye still retained a good deal of their cunning. Moreover,it was an easy mark he had before him now. The chief risk lay in anextremely violent explosion of the green fluid, but he hardly believed insuch a result. Christopher was sure to have thought of something moresubtle than mere widespread destruction, which might involve friends, notto mention property, no less than enemies. Something that burned,something that asphyxiated--something undoubtedly cruel and treacherousand horrible--existed in that green fluid; but when its time came, itwould attack its victim with little sound, if not in absolute silence. SoBullard had imagined it, though he was prepared to find himself wrong.

  The pistol was already loaded, its charge of compressed air awaiting butthe touch of release. Bullard undid the safety-catch, took a glanceround, and passed between the curtains, re-drawing them till they almosttouched. With his left hand he grasped the edges at a level with hischin, leaving a narrow aperture above that level through which he couldaim. If an explosion did take place, he was fairly secure from flyingfragments; if the atmosphere became too perilous, the window was at hand.

  He raised the weapon to the aperture and protruded the barrel. An easyshot, indeed! He would soon know what ... Damn! what was that? Footstepson the gravel beneath the window? Withdrawing the pistol, he moved to thewindow and listened. The fastenings of the mask encumbered his hearing;he could not be sure. But, next moment, peering through the misty pane onthe right he saw a man's figure, too small for either Craig or France,move from the steps into the ruddily lighted doorway. And far away, as itseemed, an electric bell purred.

  Wrath at the interruption rather than fear of discovery and capturepossessed Bullard. Caw was helpless for the present, and it was not theold housekeeper's business to answer the bell. The visitor would have towait awhile. Anyway, there was plenty of time for escape.... But was hegoing to flee empty-handed, leaving that cursed clock unexplored?

  He turned quickly back to the curtains, and again protruded thepistol--and all but dropped it.

  Between him and the clock a girl was standing--a girl in an apple-greenevening frock. She had nut-brown hair and a beautiful neck, and she wasinclined to plumpness. Apparently she was watching the pendulum. Soon,however, she moved and looked around her. There was a slight flush on thedelicate tan of her cheeks, and she smiled faintly as at some foolishthought. Then, glancing at something in her hand, she shook her headwhile a tiny frown superseded the smile.

  She stepped to the door and turned the handle--and gave a little gasp.Bullard saw her colour go out, saw her shoulder seek the support of thedoor. In that instant he might have over-awed her, stunned her withalarm, but in the next she straightened up and did an unexpected thing.She drew the key from the locked door and walked deliberately to thewriting table. For a moment she seemed to require the support of itsledge, yet steadily enough she passed back to the clock.

  There she wheeled about. Up went her right hand holding a littlerevolver. She spoke softly, not unwaveringly, but quite clearly.

  "Whoever you are, I think you had better come out. They will be hereimmediately. I've rung for them. You can't escape!"

  There was no response. Bullard was thinking hard. Ought he to overpowerher or risk the long drop from the window?

  "I will count three," she said, "and if you don't come out, I will shoot!One ... two ... th--"

  "Do not forget," said a muffled voice, "that I can shoot also."

  "You horrid pig!" she cried. "Take that!" Crack went the revolver--crashwent the bulb and shade above the writing-table.

  Bullard stepped forth. There was a greyish shade on his face, but hislips smiled stiffly behind the glass mask.

  "Stand away from the clock, and be good enough to return the key to thedoor," he said.

  The sight of him daunted her, yet not for long. She fired again--blindly,one may suppose. The bullet passed over his head, between the curtains,and through the window. A sound of vigorous knocking came from below.

  "You little devil!" snarled Bullard, and ran at her.

  Then her nerve weakened and she darted toward the door of the passage.Ere she could reach it, it flew open, and, dropping the revolver, shefell into the arms of the panting Alan.

  "Good God! what's this?" he cried at the extraordinary appearance ofBullard and the smoke wreaths in the atmosphere. "Are you all right?" hewhispered to the girl.

  Teddy dashed in, gave a shout and made for Bullard, only to be brought upshort by a shining muzzle almost in his face.

  From downstairs a female voice rose in shrieks; from the stairs came aman's, shouting in a foreign tongue. Next moment there fell a franticbeating on the door.

  Marjorie darted from her refuge, thrust home the key and turned it.Monsieur Guidet almost fell in, crying--

  "Quick! Look after Mr. Caw! He was hurt--on the stair!"

  As he spoke, Lancaster, Doris, Mr. Harvie and the doctor appeared fromthe passage.

  "Doctor, will you go to Caw?" said Alan rapidly. "He's hurt--downstairs."

  Handyside ran out, and Guidet banged the door after him. "Guard it!" heshouted to Teddy. "Let not the pig-hog escape!"

  The little Frenchman was beside himself. "So I suspect you right!" healmost screamed. "You think I was greater fool than you look when you askme to make clock the same for five hundred pounds! Bah! What idiot youwas! For I think a little after you go, and I take not many chances. Howto get here most quick, I ask myself. The train to Greenock, the ferry tocross the water, and the legs to run three miles. I do so! Iarrive!--behold, I arrive in time!" He laughed wildly. "And so you wouldtry to kill him--my clock!" he yelled, and with that, like a furiousbantam, ignoring the pistol, he flew at Bullard, tore away the mask andtossed it against the wall.

  "Monsieur Guidet!" cried Alan, running forward and catching his arm."Leave him to us."

  Guidet shook off the clasp. "Pig-hog," he went on, "behold, I pull yournose! There! Also, I flap your face! One! two! I do not waste a goodclean card on you, but I will give you satisfaction when you like--afteryou come out of the jail!"

  Alan had grabbed Bullard's right wrist. "Teddy, take the madman away," hecried, and Teddy removed Guidet, who went obediently, but blowing
like aporpoise, to a seat by the wall.

  Lancaster, looking ill, had sunk into an easy-chair by the fire. Hisdaughter, pale but composed, stood beside him, her hand on his shoulder.She still feared Bullard: even now she was ready for sacrifice. Mr.Harvie, lost in amazement, had not got beyond the threshold.

  As for Bullard, he had gone white to the lips at the Frenchman's affront;his expression was diabolical. Wrenching his wrist from Alan's grasp, hestepped back until he stood framed in the curtains. His black eyes staredstraight in front of him, at the clock, perhaps; perhaps into the future.

  Alan went back to the door, and whispered to Marjorie: "Go beside Doris,please." Then he turned to Bullard.

  "I may as well tell you," he said, "that unless my servant Caw is anotherof your victims, like Flitch, we shall neither attempt to injure you norgive you in charge; the reason for that is our affair."

  At this Teddy found it necessary to restrain Monsieur Guidet.

  "But, on the other hand," Alan continued, "you are not going to walk outof this house as easily as you seem to have entered. In fact, you are notgoing to leave this house until many things have been settled."

  Bullard gave him a glance. "Indeed!" he said quietly. "And what does Mr.Lancaster say to that?"

  "Mr. Lancaster is not going to be troubled over this matter," Alanreplied calmly, "and you will have no opportunities for troubling him onany other matter. We happen to have a nice, dry cellar, and--well, inshort, you are our prisoner, Mr. Bullard--"

  Mr. Harvie took a step forward. This was too much for his legal mind. "Mydear Mr. Craig," he began, "pray consider carefully--"

  "Oh, please, for goodness' sake, keep quiet, Mr. Harvie," Marjorieimpulsively interposed, and he collapsed, partly, it may have been, fromastonishment.

  "For how long, may I ask," sneered Bullard, "am I to have the felicity ofyour hospitality?"

  "Till the clock stops."

  A short silence was broken by Monsieur Guidet's clapping his hands andexclaiming: "How you like that, pig-hog? Bravo, Mr. Craik! That was agood bean to give him!"

  Marjorie and Teddy laughed, and the others, excepting Lancaster, smiled.And just then the doctor entered supporting Caw, who looked dazed andwretched. Alan shook his limp hand and helped him to a seat besideGuidet--which was an error of judgment, for the Frenchman's eloquence wasloosened afresh.

  "Ah, poor Mr. Caw," he cried, patting the sufferer affectionately. "Butnever mind, for now you have the enemy on the toast! Cheer up, for I willtell you a good choke! Figure it to yourself, the pig-hog comes here witha glass dish over his bad face--he was so fearful of my clock that itwould hurt him--he had so great terror of the green fluid--ha! ha!--Imust laugh, it was so very droll." Then he flashed round on Bullard. "Butlisten, pig-hog, and I tell you the secret of the dreadful, fearful,terrible, awful green fluid! I know the secret, for I make it myself. Itis a kind of fish--what you call a cod--understand? And I make it withthe oil of castor and some nice colourings! _Voila_! I could laugh forweeks and fortnights, and--"

  "Look out!" shouted Teddy, and sprang forward--too late.

  "Till the clock stops," said Bullard in a thick voice, and fired at it.Then he flung the pistol behind him and grinned.

  Teddy secured Guidet just in time, and a silence fell that seemed to lastfor minutes.

  The bullet, having made a starry hole in the glass, had pierced the facean inch below its centre, and as the company stared, the pendulumshuddered and fell with a little plash into the green liquid.

  A wild cry came from the Frenchman--"Miracle!"--and he fell tohugging poor Caw.

  As though the others had ceased to exist, Bullard strode forward. Now hiscountenance was congested, his eyes glazed. "The diamonds!" he muttered."Where are the--"

  He stopped short, as did Alan and Teddy, who had started to intercepthim,--stopped short, as did every other human movement in that room atthe sound of a voice--a voice emanating from no person present.

  Far and faint it sounded, but distinct enough for the hearing of all.

  "Do not be alarmed," it said, and paused.

  And Bullard was ghastly again, and Lancaster gasped and shivered and puthis hands to his face. Marjorie caught Doris's hand, and Caw tried torise. The others stared at the clock.

  The voice slowly proceeded--

  "These are my instructions to my nephew, Alan Craig, respecting thediamonds once mine, now his; and if Alan has not returned, to my servantCaw, and failing him, to my lawyer, Mr. George Harvie, who shall thenopen the letter marked 'last resort,' which I leave in his care. But Imake this record in the full belief that my nephew lives and will hear mywords." A pause.

  Bullard threw himself on the couch. "'His master's voice, Caw,'" hesneered most bitterly.

  No one answered save the impulsive Marjorie.

  "Cad!" she said clearly.

  The voice resumed:

  "Alan, you will have the diamonds divided expertly and without delay intothree portions of equal value, and you will hand one portion to MissMarjorie Handyside, the second to Miss Doris Lancaster, yourselfretaining the third. I make no restrictions of any sort. I also desireyou to present the pendulum intact to Monsieur Guidet, the maker of theclock, provided he has proved faithful. Finally, I ask you to present tomy one-time friend, Francis Bullard, the Green Box left in the deepdrawer of my writing-table, unless he has already obtained possession ofthe same, along with the key which Mr. Harvie will provide. And may Godbless and deal gently with us all!--even with the traitor in our midst.Farewell."

  There was another silence. Doris was kneeling, her arms round her father,as though to protect him, and Bullard had risen; the others had scarcelychanged their positions.

  Mr. Harvie cleared his throat. "Really, my dear Mr. Craig," he said, "allthis is most interesting, but, I beg leave to say, extremely irregular.And--and where are the--"

  "I almost forgot to say," replied the voice--and you might have fancied arepressed chuckle--"that the diamonds are deposited, in my nephew's name,with the Bank of Scotland, Glasgow. Once more, farewell."

  And with that the clock, having performed its duty, though so long beforeits time, disintegrated, the works falling piecemeal into the greenfluid, there forming a melancholy little heap of submerged wreckage.

  No one seemed to know what to say, until Mr. Harvie came to the rescue.He advanced and congratulated Marjorie.

  "And you, too, Miss Lancaster," he said kindly.

  Doris rose and gave him her hand. "It's really true, isn't it?" shewhispered. "And I can do anything I like with them?"

  "Anything you like, my dear."

  Alan and Teddy approached the girls, but Bullard was before them. The manrefused to believe he was beaten.

  "Doris," he said, almost pleasantly, "now that the clock has stopped, Ifeel at liberty to announce our engagement."

  She looked at him bravely, but did not speak.

  He lowered his voice. "Your father's debt to the Syndicate ispaid, but--"

  "Oh, you worm!" cried Marjorie. "Where's my revolver?"

  But Alan took him by the collar and slung him halfway across the room,crying savagely: "How dare you speak to a lady?"

  "Bravo, Mr. Craik!" Guidet chuckled. "Another good bean!"

  "Leave him to me," said Teddy. "He has asked for it, and, by Heaven, he'sgoing to get it! Look here, Bullard!" He held up an inch of fine goldchain with a nugget attached, and Bullard wilted. "If you aren't out ofthis country within three days, and if you ever defile it again, I'll usethis, though I should get five years for holding it back. Now go!"

  Bullard turned to the door.

  "Oh, stop him!" feebly cried Caw. "He must not go without the Green Box."

  Bullard made a dash, but the Frenchman was before him and held the doortill Teddy brought box and key. For an instant Bullard looked as if hewould send the thing crashing amongst the midst of them all. Then he tookit and went.

  "Mr. France," said Caw, "please take my revolver and see that he carriesthe box right off
the premises."

  "I'll see him to the gates," said Teddy.

  * * * * *

  And so Francis Bullard realised that he was beaten at last. Yet even inthe agony of rage and hate and defeat that shook his being as he turnedfrom the gates of Grey House, he ignored despair. Nothing was final!South Africa was before him! There was money to be made! There wasrevenge to be planned.... Revenge! He could think of nothing else--noteven of some one who might be crazy for revenge on himself.

  He came to the wood, started the car, and backed it out to the road. Thenhe set off for Glasgow at a more reckless pace than usual--and suddenlyremembered that the Green Box was on the seat beside him. Fool that hewas!--the thing must be got rid of! The water--that was the place. Heprepared to slow down. No, not yet. Better get past that bit where theroad ran so high above the shore. He put on speed again, and then--

  A snarl behind him, a hot breath on his ear, and two hands fastenedviciously about his neck.

  "Stop the car!" quacked the voice of Edwin Marvel. "My turn now! I'vebeen waiting for this, you beast, you liar, you swindler! Stop the car!"repeated the madman, and wrenched at his captive's throat so that thelatter's hands were torn from the wheel.

  Bullard's prayer, warning, or whatever it was, came forth in a meregurgle. The car swerved, left the road, ran up a short, gentle, grassyslope, tilted at the summit, toppled and plunged to the rocky shore.

  There was an appalling explosion.

  CHAPTER XXIX

  A fortnight later, Caw, in his little sitting-room, was entertainingMonsieur Guidet to afternoon tea. The Frenchman had just completed theoperation of replacing Christopher's clock with one of similar aspectminus the glamour and mystery of pendulum and fluid.

  "Monsoor," said Caw, "excuse my asking it again, but could you not havedone what the bullet did?"

  "Perhaps, Mr. Caw, only perhaps. I am not so clever as Chance. Thebullet, you see, came at the exact right instant to the exact rightplace. It was a miracle! The pig-hog--no! I call him not so since he isdead--the poor devil might have fired a million hundred bullets withoutdoing what that one bullet did. That is all I can say--all I wish to say,because I still am sad that my clock was not let to stop himself. Butnow, I will ask _you_ a query, Mr. Caw. How did the young lady, sobeautiful, so brave, so splendid, come to be in the room with the--thepoor devil?"

  "Miss Handyside, being uneasy in her mind," Caw answered, a triflestiffly, "had come secretly to ask me to keep an eye on an unworthyperson who was staying in the house. Which is as much as I care to say onthe subject, Monsoor."

  "But you will tell me if she and Mr. Alan Craik are now betrothered?"

  At that Caw's manner relaxed; he smiled rather complacently. "As a matterof fact, Monsoor," he replied, "the event took place yesterday, at fourthirty-five p.m."

  "Bravo! But I am not all surprised. That night, when I see them together,I begin to smell a mouse."

  "If I may say so," said Caw modestly, "it was myself who pulled thestring, as it were."

  Monsieur looked puzzled.

  "I need not go into details, Monsoor, but I may tell you, in strictestconfidence, that I had become fully fed up with the thing hanging fire.To my mind the position was absurd. Here were two pleasant young persons,worth nearly quarter of a million apiece, and as miserably in love asever I hope to see two of my fellow creatures--and nothing doing! So,when the chance came, I felt it was my duty to take it. Accordingly,while they were going through the passage, I shut off the electric at themain switch." Caw paused to light a cigarette: he was becoming somewhatfrivolous in his ways. "Later," he proceeded, "I gathered that they cameout at the other end an engaged couple."

  "Clever, Mr. Caw! You are a philosopher, I think."

  "Oh, any idiot knows that people in that condition prefer darkness.Still, I think I have done a service to both my masters, for she was Mr.Christopher's choice for his nephew. Well"--he sighed--"I'm glad to havedone one thing without bungling."

  "And the other young lady--also most beautiful but too hungry--tooskim--you understand?"

  "Slim, if you please, Monsoor. You'll be talking about slim milk next!But to be serious, it is a case where one can only hope for the best.There was never a finer young man than Mr. France, and it is a great pitythere were no diamonds for him. I understand he is none too well off, andwhen a lady happens to have a very large fortune--of course, I understandthat is no impediment in your country--"

  "Would you not shut off the electric again, Mr. Caw?" the Frenchmaneagerly asked.

  Caw shook his head. "I was never one for tempting Providence by trying torepeat an immense success. Likely as not, they would fall down the stairinstead of into each other's arms."

  "Hah! that would not be so pleasing. The broken heart can be repaired,but the broken nose--" Monsieur made an expressive gesture and rose."But, as you have said, we must hope for the best. It is always well totake an optical view of the future--is it not? And now, Mr. Caw"--hebecame nervous and produced a jeweller's package--"before I go I give youa small momento. My clock has brought you dangers, for which forgive. Wehave been allies in the service of my benefactor, Mr. Christopher Craik,and I hope we remain good friends for ever always. Take this, mon ami,but look not at it till I have depart. The description on it I hope youwill approve on. But one thing more--I trust you to let me know when themarriage--no, I say the marriages, not singular--are about to go off ...Au revoir!"

  * * * * *

  When Caw opened the package he was amazed to find a very fine goldhunting watch; and he was not a little touched on reading the inscriptioninside the case.

  "To J. Caw from A. Guidet.To Be FaithfulIs The Best ThingWe Can Do."

  "Ay," he murmured ruefully, "but I've made a pretty poor show of it."

  * * * * *

  At the same hour, in the doctor's study, Marjorie and Alan wereawaiting--without any visible impatience--the return of the others fortea. Lancaster and Teddy were still Alan's guests, but Doris was nowMarjorie's. On the day following the stoppage of the clock, Mrs.Lancaster, finding it imperative that she should fulfil certain mostimportant social engagements, had returned to London. She left Grey Housein ignorance of all that had happened beyond the bare details of thedivision of the diamonds. Of Bullard's end she did not hear till a weeklater, and the particulars of his death were as vague as many of theparticulars of the man's life. The "accident" had remained undiscoveredfor a couple of days, and the tides of the Firth had removed much. Mrs.Lancaster had departed with sullen, smouldering eyes. She honestlyconsidered her daughter thankless and undutiful, because the latter hadnot promised her a share of the diamonds on the spot.

  It was of her that Alan and Marjorie had been talking for the pastfive minutes.

  "I wouldn't be too pessimistic, Alan, if I were you," the girl wassaying. "Mrs. Lancaster, given her own way and plenty of money, may bequite bearable, if not charming, to live with, and Doris is evidentlybent on supplying the money--"

  "For her father's sake. Doris will never forgive her mother, and I don'tsee why she should."

  Marjorie smiled. "Let's wait and see. What will the Lancasters' income befrom Doris's gift?"

  "If Doris spends a hundred thousand on a joint annuity, as she threatensto do, they will have about L8,000 a year."

  "Goodness! what a lot to have to spend in twelve months!"

  "And, of course, Lancaster, though he will have retired frombusiness, will have quite a decent income of his own when the minescome round again."

  "Well, I prophesy that they will both be fairly happy. Mrs. Lancasterought to be able to make a pretty good display in what she callsSociety. Now and then Mr. Lancaster will have a shilling left to spendon a nice book for his library, poor dear; and, with no businessworries, he will probably begin to admire his wife once more as well aslove her, which he has always done; and when he gets a surfeit of herfriends, as I fear he will now and then, he will just
take a littleholiday and pay you a visit--"

  "Us, please!"

  "I wonder," said Miss Handyside, becoming extremely grave, "I wonderwhether we ought to marry, after all."

  "What?"

  "We're both of us far, far too rich. You know I have always despised veryrich people."

  "I'm sure I'll lose my bit in no time," said Alan, hopefully.

  "On the other hand, I have never admired foolish people."

  "I never said you were conceited, did I?" he retorted.

  "You wouldn't have said a thing like that twenty-four hours ago,Mr. Craig!"

  "Twenty-four hours ago I would not have interrupted you for the world."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Look at the clock! Twenty-four hours ago, in that dark passage, you werewhispering--"

  "I wasn't!" cried Marjorie, blushing adorably. "Hold your tongue andtalk about something sensible."

  "Right! Do you think you could be ready to marry me next month?"

  When a minute or two had passed, she said: "We're a pair of horrid,selfish things!"

  "How so?"

  "We're so wrapped up in happiness--at least, you are--that we have nothought for poor Doris, and poor, _poor_ Teddy. Oh, what is to be doneabout them? ... Why don't you answer?"

  "Because it's a problem, dear girl. We know it's simply want of moneythat's holding Teddy back, but even a fellow with plenty can't say to hisfriend: 'Look here, old cock, take this cheque and run away and getengaged!'"

  "Certainly not! There's no need to be indelicate. Couldn't you put thecheque in his stocking at Christmas--or something?"

  "While I am doubtful as to whether Teddy hangs up his sock, I know he'stoo sensitive and proud to accept a money gift, however delicatelyoffered. As a matter of fact, Marjorie, I've tried--wanted him to take aquarter of the diamonds as a sort of souvenir, you know--"

  "You dear, kind, generous man!" exclaimed Marjorie....

  Order being restored--

  "My only hope," he went on, "is that Teddy will, somehow, lose his headand take the plunge, and _then_ it would be a wedding present. One can'treject a wedding present, can one?"

  "No--though every one of my sisters has fervently wished one could. And Icould give him a wedding present, too!"

  "We!"

  "No, big!"

  They both laughed, then sighed, and with one accord said--

  "But he'll never do it!"

  * * * * *

  Dusk was falling on the loch. The figures of Lancaster and Handysidewalking in front were becoming invisible.

  "But why," asked Doris, "are you going back to London? I thought you haddecided to spend the winter at Grey House and help Alan with his bookabout the Eskimos."

  "I'm afraid it's a blue lookout for the Eskimos. You see, Alan hopesMarjorie will agree to marry him in January. The stopping of the clockhas altered a good many things," he finished, rather drearily.

  "It seems to have altered you, Teddy," she said shyly.

  He did not respond, and there was another of the long pauses which hadbeen frequent during the walk.

  "Father and I must be going, too, before long," she said at last.

  "Your father is looking a new man, Doris," he returned, with an effort.

  "Thanks to you.... Oh, I know you have told me not to speak about it, butI implore you to tell me how you did that wonderful thing about the debtto the Syndicate. Tell me, Teddy."

  "You must excuse me."

  "But why should you want to hide the truth from me? Do you know what youforce me to think?--that you paid the debt yourself!"

  "Well, I didn't."

  "Not some of it?"

  There was silence, then--"For heaven's sake, Doris, let the matter rest.Forget about it!"

  "Forget! What do you think I'm made of? ... Oh, I'm beginning to wonderwhether Christopher's diamonds have brought me any real happiness."

  Controlling himself he said: "You know they have, for your father'ssake alone--"

  "Even so," she said, and halted.

  "Doris," he whispered with passionate bitterness, "I will say it onlyonce: it's rotten to be poor. That's all. Now let's--"

  "And I think I will say it all my life," she answered almost inaudibly;"... it's rotten to be rich, and I'm afraid we shall be late for tea."

  They were,--very late.