A Wife for a Day; Or, THE FINGER OF FATE.

Auckland Star, Volume XXXVI, Issue 35, 10 February 1905, Page 6

A Wife for a Day; Or, THE FINGER OF FATE.

By EMMA a WELDON, Author of "Love and Diplomacy," " Genevieve's Triumph," "A Strange Bridal," "Friends and Rivals," "Cupid's DileTnTna," etc., etc

CHAPTER L Just as the Lour ing clock in a tower wa;s eitrhc. Bob Anncslcigh, who had walked, through the yellow mist from his club Lard by, let himself into his bachelor qiiartersHe had dined earlier than customary that night, dLood as usual in rhe jra~rb of a gentleman at leisure, upon whom the demands of society are always pressing. i'he firelight shone out ruddily into the littel square hull of the flat as he opened the door of the big room who-ic three windows overlooked Fifth Avenue, unci the thought came to Anneslei<rh that it ha d never looked so apppalingly cozy and homelike —a thought tinned with regret as he reflected that after to-night these pleasant bachelor quarters would be no longer his home. j The large room was unlighted. except by the blazing fire of gas Ickjs in the low '■ grate, the gleams of which, reflected in ! glowing pools of flame uu the dark oak ! wainscoting, struck a note of warmth ! and eolcur, leaving the corners of the : half-pannelled room in Retnhra_ndtesque I shadow. Annealeigh cloned the door, and nut i troubling to turn on the electric light, < dropped into an easy chair by the fire, ! and reached out for th" to'iaceo jar. lie . prodded the strands of Cavendish into ! his pirn , , with a little sigh, lighted ii, i anil laj back rr>3efti\ - cly in the chair, his ! eyes moving round the room. I He was sorry—it vriis no earthly good worrying, of course-—but he was sorry to think that after t«v:iight he would be a stranger here. It viu no particular , consolation to know that it was throuvh ; his own folly that he had been compelled ; to let the flat just as ill .stood, for the remaining term of his lease; with tonigbt his tenancy expired. He suddenly j found himself wishing lha>. Gregory acd i the ether men had not spoken of dropping in to-night. lie had the feeling that he would have liked ftp spend his last night in his old rooms alone. lie lay back in the chaAr, amoking meditative ly, while the gr.uy smoke r-urled upward from the bowl of his pips. It was odd to think of another,man living in the midst of his household gods, eaHi and all of which had its separate niche in his affections—those Renaissance bronzes that he had secured after spirited bidding at a Broadway art store; the jars of the real Xankin blue which lie had come across, with what tVe'ing*-. of raptuiv. on the unlikdliest <>* .second-hand stalls in h-ixih Avonue; tiiat old copper lantern with horn panels t!at h.: had picked up on a recent tJ"ip to London; treasures he had lovingly gathered from all quarters. It seem cd odder still to think of a self-made Western millionaire pitching his tent ancid them. '■I don't understand culture." Amos X . Jones had said, "but now that I've «otthe dollars to buy it, I'm going to give it. a chance of soaking into mc." That had been when the bargain was struck. Amos K. Jones had engaged the flat furnished, and would become its tenant from twelve o'clock to-night. He was a decent man enough, even if he had made his money in a mining camp; only it seemed incongruous, somehow, that he should take possession here. The contrast would be striking. Annesleigh would have supposed that the man's taste might have rather inclined to furniture fresh from Fourteenth-street or Sixth avenue—highly varnished and showy in bright plusli. Annesleigh rose and stood for a moment looking down into the fire, a graver look than usual in his gray eyes—a man of five feet ten, or thereabotits, with a rather good-looking, boyish face, that usually gave people the impression that its possessor was younger than his actual age. which was twenty-six. The dusk seemed to touch everything with a suggestive note of mystery —the •-oft, Oriental hangings; the carpet, brought to a Nw York flat from a shadowy bazaar in some far, strange city, vivid with the tawny warmth of i-olour t hat is part of the life of the East; the prints in their dark frames on the red wall above the panelling. He | had always liked this room: and never, I perhaps, so much as now, when it soon I would be but a fading memory. '"I'm sorry that I've been such a fool!" he said aloud, as though he were addressing sentient things. "IE I hadn't been —if I'd only listened to Ruslnnore, 1 shouldn't be saying good-bye to you tonight. And I'm sorry to say good-bye. We've seen some good limes together— you and I—and now the good times arc ever, and we've got to take the bad luck as we took the smilei of ortum. , ! , ' tie spoke with a half-smiling light-'ic-j.s of manner that perhaps was not wholly a pretence. Had he not said a score of times that the true philosophy of life was to take nothing too seriously, to accept with a laugh whatever fate Sfm>? ''Fate's a woman," he had been wont to r-.mark, "'and, woman-like, she'll do nothing for you, if you're too civil to her. You must show her you don't care." Besides, in any case,' now that the cards ir the gamble men call life had gone ii retrievably against him, it remained hat he should show himself a £ood los^r—the point of honour in a brave man's code. Only surely it v?aa no disloyalty to that code to feel a little sorry. . He paused lmgering-ly in front of the figure copied from the sad-eyed Ariadne, who sleeps in marble in the Vatican. "Good-bye!" he whispered, touching '. the. chiselled whiteness softly. "I Lope 1m?'11 be good to you, even if he did make his money in that beastly Cripple Creek , mining country." ' \ A thought made him wa lk over to the \ fireplace. He pv.t out a hand to switch : on the eJectric light; then changed his '. mind, and Jit the two wax tapers in the antique candlesticks on the oak manteL Tin.' soft, white radiance fell on a wo- [ man's face—a face that looked back at j Vim from the ivory on which it was painted—proud, beautiful, unsmiling. "I wonder if that is how you will look at mc, without an iota of tenderness on your perfect face, when I go to you and say that 1 release you from your promise beuauee I've been a fool, who has stpmfoflcred his fortune?" he muttered,

dejactecUv, Ms eyes fixed intently ou the exquisitely painted face in the mitt , iss.Lu_r«. How iik.e her it wa.^! "1 wonder, will you look at mc like that, with just the shadow of contemptuous scorn on youx lips and in your eves ? You once told mc t&at you had ao sympathy for fools. I've been that, Heaven knows! Only to ha\ie been engaged six months, and this the cad! You don't know it yet, Enid; but you are free. Even if I could. I'd not hold you to your promise by as much as a cobweb! You were never intended to be a poor man's wife. Would any love, I wonder, compensate you for the loss of the dainty siika and laces that you look upon as the right of your beauty, of the jewels you clasp round your graceful, white throat? Enid, I think I should be more sorry at the thought of giving you up if I could believe that you'd feel a little regret, too, for niy sake." He saz down in the low chair again. Tbe uouid, unsmiling eyes in the narrow, gold frame seemed to follow him. Yes, he must tell Enid Cartaret as soon as she returned from the yachting cruise—tell her that what of his fortune he had not gambled away at cards with Gregory and Ames and the others, he had lost on the turf or in the Stock Exchange. Ames was always putting him on to "good things," which, somehow, never came off—new mines that proved to have been "salted," horses that were scratched the day before the big race. All was gone! lie had been engaged to Enid for six months. He had scarcely realised until now, when the crisis in his fortune had co be faced, how d«=p an insight thoae six months had given him into her cliara.cttv. Bob Annesk-igh might be an easyL,oirtK. trustful fool Lα money matters— hr ,'..•! proved it beyond dispute by letting liis fortune s-lip like water through his fingers—but he was not a simpleton whore women were concerned. Through those six months he had been studying—without kuowing it, perhaps— tht woman whose beauty had stirred his pulses. Now the unconscious analysis of months had suddenly crystallised into conscious knowledge. For the first time there-flashed upon him a thorough understanding of the women he had asked to be his wife. That pride and coldness that he had believed to be a mask of her real feelings, which his love could thaw into womanly tenderness, were but other names for the selfishness of a woman who loved only herself. She had '"no sympathy for foois." She would have none for him when he went to her with hia ugly news. She won!d only consider how it would affect her own future—not his. He looked up at the miniature again, and felt as sure of that as though it were her own cold, passionless face he was looking into. And, perhaps, with thi3 knowledge had come to Bob Ajinesleigh the swift, added seli-revelation that he had been in love — not with Enid Cartaret, but only with an idea!, non-existent woman, who had seemed for a little while to wear Enid Oartaret's beautiful face. '"Enid, when I tell you that you are free, I shall be thinking of my own reg.iined liberty," he whispered to the gaslo£ fire, as he sat there and saw strange pictures come and go in the blue flames. CHAPTER 11. 808 ANNESLEIGH'S AWAKENING. Bob Annesleigh glancee at his watch, and found that it was nine o'clock. He supposed Gregory and Ames and the other , men would be turning up soon. ThcVy did not know as yet that to-night market! the end of the old order of things. He ha'id not told how hard hit he was, although they must suspect something of his ca-i'p, unless they believed he had the purs? elf Fortunatus; their demands on it had -hwn heavy enough. That last plunga .'if his had been a desperate venture, which, with luck, might have saved him. Now iUat it had failed he was practically beggared. It was true he had a «mall fix/ul income from capital which be c-ould r.f)t touch, but that was anticipated for tVomething like a year to crime; he had onKr two hundred and odd dollars ia cujjli. To all intents and purposes he was utterly.' hopelessly ''broke." He !ay back comfortably in his chair, and pulled Lazily at his pipe. The money was irone; all tho worrying in the world would aot biring it bacfc, and he was not goiii" to worry. Re would have to let -he <jld plaeft in the he supposed: and lihat would be a wrsneh. It rt'as the home of his childhood; his dear?st rnpreorie* clung round every stick and -tont- of it. He could not have endured the thought of selling it, but there was so need for that; if he were bankrupt, it leaist all his debts would be squared. No; he would have to let the place furlishec'l. He only hoped the new tenants xrould keep on his old housekeeper, Mrs. Deane. It would be hard if she had to seave the house she took such a pride in ieeping spotlessly clean. For himself, the question of the future lid not trouble him at all j he even found lims-Elf looking forward with a feeling >f interest and curiosity to thoae unturned pages in the book of "life. After all, he had come to be pretty ;ick of the aimless existence he had been eading since he dropped in for that for;une from a distant relative eighteen nonths ago; the pursuit of pleasure can jecome more deadly monotonous than any vork. He had no purpose in life; periaps, he thought, he might find a purrose now when he would have to face the vorld under entirely altered conditions. Plans for the future he had made ione; the future was quite capable of ooking after its own affairs, he told him:eif, with a devil-may-care sort of laugh. ■few experiences would at least Tx rereshing. He knocked the ashes from his pipe, md reached out for the tobacco jar; the >ewter gleamed like silver in the freight. It would be unpleasant, of course, hav,ng to turn out of these luxurious -poms; he and his quarters here suited jach other so exactly. But the unknown future called him—appealed irresistibly :o a vein of romance in his nature. And then, too—;he glanced up at the miniature • on the mantel—he was free, or would be, as soon as he nad told Enid Cartaret the news. Bob Annesleigh felt his old buoyancy of spirits,,returning. It suddenly seem--2d to him very delightful to be free. It left th.H way open again to old dreams. j. He had. been bo busy, seeking pleasure in Now York and abroad during those past eighteen months that he had almost] I forgotten thoso old dreams ; but they

crowded back on him now, like a sudden resurrection of dear, desd. friends, as Ik sat looking into the fire through thf drifts of tobacco sxnoke. In the Berkshires, in. his old home, ii the heart of the great hills, where ha hac lived until eighteen months ago. it hat been plsasint to uxaam of a woman call ing to him in hi« solitude, from th< "world of men and women: "Come! Come!" It had been pleasant to dream thai somewhere in the world, beyond th< fields and the hil]s, a woman waited to] him, whom his soul had already strayec out to seek, to whom his footsteps wer< unconsciously leading him—the one de stined. woman -vvh.o wcnilcl mate iiis His complete. He uad cherished tiie iai^cj even while he laughed, at it. For a. little wiiile ike tfcdught lie iuic found her when lie asked Enid lo be his wife. But only for a little while; tlies he and his dream had to part company The end of that quest still stretched from his feet; but jhe was free tc follow it now! .A ring at the door broke in upon his thoughts. Annesleigh jumped up with a laugh, and told hinistlf that the firelight had made hhn seatiinenta-L lie heard the voice of Gregory as his man, Burke, opened the hall door. "Hello, you lazy fellow! Hanged if I don*t think you were asleep!" cried Gregory, unceremoniously pushing his way into the room before Burke could announce him, followed by Captain Elliott, whom no one seemed to have known when he held his commission in the regular or volunteer army. '"Can't see you in this infernal light!" Both gentlemen were in evening dress, and Gregory switched on the electric lig-ht as he spoke. Annesleigh went forward to greet the newcomers. "Rather thought you'd have brought Ames," Annesleigh said. "He'll be following, I suppose?" An odd look came for a moment in Gregory's eyes. "I hardly know," he said, shortly. "Haven't seen him to-day." "Hope he'll turn up. 1 wanted you all to be here. Fact is, I've got some news for you." "News?" Gregory took up the word swiftly. "What do you mean?" Bob laughed. "Oh, it will keep a bit," he said. "Take off your coats; Eurke'll take 'em.' , "Good news?" persisted Gregory, looking hard at him. "Why are you so deuced mysterious, Annesleigh ?" "Be* it will interest! you, anyhow. But I'm going to keep it for the dramatic moment and the limelight!" Anneal eigh laughed. It was odd how light-hearted he felt. It would be amusing to watch their facts when he told them. Latterly Annesleit'i ha.d ceased to have s.ny particular illusions about tiie quality of their friendship. He had lost too much money at cards to them not to know that they regarded him as the source of a comfortable little income. He marvelled that h<? had been so long in finding it out. and wondered why ha had seen so much of them. Thf-y were men he did nut retail/ care for; he had no single thing in common with them, except his love of pia.y, as he had with Kushntore. It would bo interesting , to-night to find \ut how much their boisterous afTeeteUion of friendship—-which not infrequently had jarred upon him—was really worth, when they learned that he was "going under." "Oh. Annesieigh will tell us when it suits him!" interrupted Elliott. He was a bloodless-looking man, with a sharp nose, and rather shifty eyes. "Got anything to drink on the premises, Anne3leigh?" he added. 'Tit's a raw night; the wind's rising. A drarn'H do mc good." The captain's conversation usually comprised a request for something to drisak. He was a silent but thirsty soul. "Bad business how the bottom dropped out of that Golconda Mining Company; can't understand it a bit," Gregory volunteered, as Bob produced a bottle of whisky and a syphon. He was speaking of the venture by which Annesleigh made his last pffort to retrieve him self. "Dashed unlucky tip of mine, that! Was hard hit myself over it— very hard hit!" It struck Annesleigh that the man was lying: something in his voice seemed to suggest it. "Yes; come to think of it, you and Amca have i>eon unfortu.xuu-e in your VrRommendations: or. ratiwr, I have been unfortunate!" he said, looking across at Gregory. He spoke lightly, but Gregory may iiave read a hidden meaning "in the srords; he changed colour, and laughed a trifle uneasily. Did Annesleig'h begin to 3uspee», anything? "Oh, your next piimge will pnll all rour chestnuts out of the lire! You iucky dog, you can afford a bad shot or two!" "Tell mc when, Elliott." Bob swlashed 3ome seltxer into the whisky. He turned to Gregory with a laugh." "It almost seems the psychological moment t<» tel pou my news, Gregory. Sorry Ames isn't iere. I have made my last plunge; pJaysd my last hand. I am afraid that after :o-night I shall no have the p!ea>ure of entertaining you here." Gregory started to his feet. Then the naster of the handsome bachelor apartnents did begin to suspect. "Why—why, what do you mean?" he jried. Bob saw the uneasy look in Gregory's ; aee; he was rather enjoying the situa;ion. He did not like Gregory; during he last week or so he had come actively o dislike the man. "Simply this. lam giving up this flat, md my future movements are uncertain," ie said, smiling. Gregory's face was an interesting tudy. His jaw dropped at the unexpeetd news, and it was a. moment or so beore he could recover himself; the proslect of the loss of the assured income hat his acquaintanceship with the aeommodating Annesleigh represented disoncerted him. Captain Elliott, though nore phlegmatic, seemed equally taken back. "You're joking, Annesleigh!" Gregory ried to laugh. "Come, you're not going o drop your old friends like this! Don't ell mc! Dashed good joke, though, Bob Lnnesleigh going to cut the cards! Ha! ia! Why, I came to-night to give you our revenge for our game of a couple of venings ago. Come, I insist! I had all he luck that night, and I hate taking man's money without giving him a hanee of winning it back!" Bob Annesleigh looked at the speaker uriously. Should he take the offer? He ad only some two hundred dollars in the rorld, and if he lost that —yet, perhaps, c would not lose. It was time the luck urned. What if he were to have a run f good fortune to-night, and get some of is own back? The thought tempted him. Tes; he would back his luck for the last ime up to his limit. "Right," he said, coolly; "I'll try for ay revenge!" Gregory was conscious of a swift feeing of relief. Despite his words, be had Ji idea that Annesleigh .meant, what he iaid about renouncing cards. He had no Suspicion how nearly bankrupt Bob was. Ml the more reason that he should be nduced to play to-nig3it, and grwe him

Gregory—the opportunity of making all he could in a last night of play oct of tiie pigeon that seemed to be fluttering out of his reah. A3 Annesieigh. turned bis back, he and Elliott exchanged swift, ■meaning glances., telegraphing to one ao- , other. j "Well, what are we going to play?" the hoet asked, lightly. "Oh, any old game!" replied Elliott. "There are only tkree of us-—" "So we'd better play poker," said Gregory. "Three-handed poker Is rather dull," yawned Elliott. '"But I don't mind." "What limit?" Annesleigh asked, carelessly, throwing- the cards on the table. "On, fifty dollars!'- suggested Gregory, carelessly, "Mo, thanks! Twenty-five is rather high; but if you like to make it tha-t, I don't mind," replied Annesleigh. Hiliott fehiiSletl the cards with his long. thin fingers, and Bob cut. Silence suddenly entered the room, and made an unseen fourth, at the little gTeen table. For the first few hands Annesleigh found himself winning , . Was the goddcia of chance going to smile on him tonight, woman-iiice, when he was about to renounce her? A little pile of winnings lay before him on the table. But then, he remembered, on previous nights he hod frequently l begun by winning when tiie stakes were low. ±i he could only continue to have the luck to-night! The cards flew softly round the table, whispering to one another as they fell on the green baize, chuckling, perhaps, at t-he merry game they nightly played with men's souls. Presently Annesleigh found himself with the best hand he had so far held. He promptly made it twenty-five dollars to play. He smiled at the thought that luck had come to sit by his side; surely he had waited Jong enough for her! Elliott hesitated, and. while lie did so, Gregory leaned across the table and asked tor a light. And Annesleigh, unconsciously watching him, saw his lips Tiove as he took the match. Something in the expression of his eyes. too. struck him as odd. For the first time the thought flashed through his brain: "Are these men in collusion? Are my friends nothing , innre or less than card sharpers and "cheats?" It was a norribie thought, and he tried to p'-it ie iroiu him,, but it refused to go. lie look/ , at the face of each man, and he wondered why he had never examined them more closely. Th,ey were not jjensant faces at that moment, with greed and lust written on every feature. They did not play for iLe love of sport, apparently, but soleiy to make money—his money—these irten he had been luol enough to admit to Id 3. house as friends: he was beginning to be quite sure of that. But t-hat other thought: >.o; he could not believe they were cheating—not without more proof than he hold. Gregory raised him twenty-live, and Elliott immediately raised another iwenty-nve. The game went on. each man raising until Annesleigh's stake was within a iew dollars of all he pusscssed. Were ac to iigain and the other tw-u still bet on their haiuls, he would have to drop out, being at the end of his resources. Reason forced him to drop out now. The promptness with which liilliott threw down his cards, while Gregory took the pool, brought the susuicion again from the background of Bob's brain. Did an understanding exist between the two men ? In spite of himself he could not put aside the growing suspicion. He had only twenty dollars left. It was useless to go on playing with that small amount. "We'll have a change," he said. "Suppose we back the turn of a single card —all against the dealer:- " Gregory and Elliott looked across at each other. "All right," said Gregory, "if you're tired of poker." It was a form of gambling dependin? sheerly upon luck—the most primitive kind of gambling —with which they frequently finished up their evenings. "You deal, Gregory." Bob rose and threw a new pack of cards on the table. At the same moment Elliott rose, and lounged -over to Annesleigh, standing between him and Gregory, as he leisurely reached across for a ligar from the box. "First-rate weeds, tho.-e of yours," be niunnuredy. biiing , the end off. Bob smiled grimly; he smiled more <rrimly still when Elliott cut for Gregory to deal. Had Elliott's careless action been a deliberate design to draw bis attention away from Gregory for a rr.umez-it? Suspicion wii crystallising) into certainty. But, he remained quit/; silent, w&ttthinsr Gregory intently. Per-i-aps Gregory noticed it. tor his hand trembled n little, and he dealt clumsily. Annpsleigh passed his fin.g«r lightly over the back of the card dealt to "him; the microscopic pin prices on it left no further proof necessary. He jumped to his feet, and, seizing Gregory's wrist, tors the pack of cards from him, then flung the man roughly away. "What—what the " began Gregory. But his voice failed him, and his face had grown white. Elliott was on his feet, too. "Why, in thunder, did you do that, Annesleigh?" he cried, trying to bluster. ■"What do you mean by it?" "Simply this — that you have been cheating mc, you scoundrels, the pair oi: you!" cried Annesleigh, with a danger OUS gleam in his eye. "It's a lie!" "It's the truth! You've been cheating mc systematically for months! This is not the pack I put on the table, but 2, .marked pack Gregory substituted! And now I'm going to expose you so iomplstely that you won't dare to show your faces among honest people again, md to kick you out!" BCe touched the bell. "JHk>w dare you.insinuate?" yelled Ellicrfi, snatching up the little pile of QO'ies at his elbow. A sudden fury seemed to possess Anaesleigh, juvd, pouncing upon the captain, he half flung him across the apartBent. Gregory, who was not a belligerent man, dashed toward the door, but Elliott burned, his face filled with rage. "'You shall pay for this insult, sir!" ie .grated between his white teeth, while iia fingvrs worked nervously as though inxious to fasten on to the other's throat. Annesleigh "was in a wild mood toaight: with ruin staring him in the face, the man really welcomed a chance for furious excitement. | He therefore laughed mockingly at. Z!aptain Elliott. "Oh, when and wtrere you please," tie exclaimed, as though it were really i matter of indifference, something aardly worth his attention. "Then it shall be here and now, where ihe ins-ult was passed. You have aroussd the wrong man, Annesleigh, and it's jjoing to cost you dear," he snarled. The information did not seem to disturb the master of the sumptuous bachelor apartments at all. "I said I was ready to give you all the satisfaction yon* wanted, Elliott:

bat what d'ye mean by now ami here? This is 2Sew Tork, and we'd be pret-ty apt to land in a police ceil if we tried any suck stage racket. But please remember I'm just as willing as yon can be to take ehanees, because I was just longing for excitement. Now, sir, tell mc how I can accommodate you?" "You have a niate to this, possibly, Annesleigh ?" taking a small revolver out of his pocket. '•That is true," remarked Bob, lifting the artic-le in question from a drawer of his desk; "but even if we ■were willing to back off to opposite corners of this big room, who is there to give the signal, since your bold fel-low-tnief. Gregory, went tumbling do«n tiie stairs a minute ago, at tbe risk of his precious old neck? 'WEb, I repeat, .can we induce to be second to us both!" *Teriia.ps I migb.-t do," said. a. raelo dioua voice just then, as through the half-open doorway there came the figure of a -woman. Annesleigh recognised the vowe only too well. It belonged to a dashing souorette, who some time before had taken the city by storm. At first he had, like others, been attracted toward Leola Glenwood, but, recognising her true character, Annesleigh had finally avoided her. This action seemed to have aroused an ugly demon in the heart of the actress, and on several occasions she had endeavoured to entice Bob back to her side without success. Then came a dramatic scene, which Annesleigh did not like to remember, when, failing to win tihe love for which she angled, the Glenwood woman had actually cursed him, and vowed sooner or later to have a bitter reckoning. He later heard rumours that she had taken up with Elliott, though the latter had never mentioned her name in his hearing. Now Annesleigh saw it all—saw a woman's hand back of Elliott's desire to ruin him. Leola Glenwood threw aside her cloak, and Bob shudderud as he discovered the eager look on her handsome bold face. the was ready to go to the limit for revenge. "What do you say. gentlemen—may I assist at this pleasant little function? Surely I could count three and drop a handkerchief as well as any other, for haven't I done the same thing many a tkne before the footlights?" Elliott did not seem surprisefi,. at her a,j>pe:ira.nce. » Perhaps he had been aware that she was close by. "As \>ell you as any other, Leola, providing this hig-h and mighty gentleman does not object. I coi'ldn't sleep without satisfaction. Such an insult can be ■wiped out only in one way —by blood!" he exclaimed •'Perhaps you're right. Elliott—at aiiy rate, I'm ashamed of having soiled my hands touching such a vi!e scamp. Oh! yes, as you will. What is the usual arrangement—do we fire at tie word three?" he said, trying to appear quite cool and unconcerned, for really he did not wholly believe that Elliott was man enough to go through to the Snish.* "When I say 'three,' the kerehfef will fall, and perhaps by tha-t time you will have reason to regret making" an crtemy of Leola Glenwood. Walk to your places, gentlemen—you, with your back to yonder wall, Mr Annes-leig-h, and Captain Elliott where he stands among the cards." AunesleiglV knew she had placed him purposely where the light of the electrolier must be in his eyes, and interfere to some extent with his aim. But it did not suit his purpose to complain; no matter what the result might be. "Are you ready, gentlemen?" demanded the soubrette, as she poised the fatal kerchief aloft. If this were a game of bluff, she certainly carried out her part exceedingly well; and Annesleigh shook himself together, determined that he would not show the white feather, come what might. "Ready!" said Elliott, fiercely. "Same here!" responded Bob, allowing the haDd Uiat gripped his weapon to hang at his side. Somehow, Captain Elliott did not altogether like the nonchalant attitude liis opponent had assumed. It was too business-like. Possibly he had anticipated that Anneslcigh would shrink from the ordeal. Aiul what if the vindictive soubrette insisted on counting t-he whole tbre-e, and letting her snowy kerchief fall? By Jove! Annesleigh, he remembered, was something of a sportsman, and belonged to a gun club—why, there might be murder done, and one or both of them drop in a pool of hlood! "One!" Still, the bltiff might go on a little farther. Was Bob weakening at all? He certainly did not show it. "Two!" The perspiration stood out in beads on the doughty captain's brow, for he saw that arm of Annesleigh begin to rise most menacingly. Then Elliott swore and laughed harshly. He liad reached tlie limit of his nerve "Suppose we let this drop for tonighrt, Anneeleigh? I've been imbibing a bit too much. I guess, for my hand's too devilish shalcy to take the risk. Depend on it, 111 see you some time later. Come, Leola, yonr fine game has panned out a fizzle. Let's get away from here. I hope that cowardly cad of a Gregory hasn't broken his neck." "And I hope he has," snapped the woman. Anneslersrh laughed lightly. "Good-night to both of you," he said, sneeringly. The woman gave him a malevolent look. He knew she would never forgive or forget. Just then Burke came into sight, but he was too well-trained a servant to look surprised at anything singular happening in the luxurious bachelor apartments of his master. Lots of strange things occurred there at times. "Burke," sang out Annesleigh, "jus+ see this couple to the door, please, and. if necessary, help Capt. Elliott, whom T caught cheating at cards, to the street." Burke bowed and followed them out the captain meanwhile talking to the actress, who appeared to be reproaching him because he lacked the nerve to carry her scheme out to the full. There was a moment's silence, then a scuffling of feet, followed by a noise like the falling of a sack of coal down innumerable stairs, a medley of groan? and oaths, the hall door of the flat gen tly dosing, and again silence. Apparently, Burke had seen the captain out! And Bob Annesleigh. as he tossed his revolrer carelessly bac-k into its former reeeptacb. laughed again, this tiu>«> mockingly.

"Something told mc he'd funk at the last second. "Why, it was only a set-up game, after all; but, honestly, I believe that woman was sorry not to see tis exchange shots. She's* something of a devil, that's -what. And now I'm well rid of the -whole gang. Ah. if Fd only found 'em out before they swindled mc out of ray pile. I'm a plucked pigeon, and the hawks have flown away -with the spoil/ -was what Bob Amiesleigh was saying to himself. At last Annesleigh understood what a blind, unsuspecting fool he had been. A man of honour himself, he had expected honour in others. Now, as he looked back, a dozen little circumstances, each trivial in itself, perhaps, crowded, into his memory—trivial strands, tut they twisted into a strong rope of conviction. Only lie should have found it out a.* the beginning, not at the end, when it was too late. Fool! Fool! A wave of passionate disgust swept over him suddenly—disgust of the idle, purposeless, unhealthy life he had drifted into, of the feverish pursuits he had miscalled pleasure—a contempt of himself. He looked at the cards littered on the table; on the floor; the room was almost carpeted with cards, as it had been night after night. Must that be the last memory he was to take away of the rooms that had grown almost to be a part of himself? At least, his last memory of these rooms should not be a tainted one. He knelt and gathered up the cards from off the floor, from off the table; then dropped them, handful by handful, into the fire. He watched the flames curl round them—reds and blacks, hearts and diamonds, spades and clubs—watched them until reds and blacks alike dulled down to one uniform grey whiteness of ash. as though the fire had cleansed them, and this ash fell below the gas logs upon the hearth. For a moment he stood staring at the crumbling ashes; it was like the story of his own life. Then suddenly the frown left his wace. and he laughed. Tht? true philosophy of life was tv< take nothing too seriously; his buoyant, boyish temperament made it an easy philosophy to live up to. It was teojate to mend what had been; the next best thing was to accept the inevitable with a laugh. There was a knock at the door. Bnrke entered. 'Is there anything else you want., sir?" he said, calmly. "No, Burke; I think not. But, stop! There's a bottle or two of that Pommery left, isn't there? You might bring mc one-", "Very good, sir." Burke retired. "Now. if Burke were the faithful oh' retainer that we see in dreams," Bob murmured, as he Jit a cigarette, "he would recognise that this was the dramatic moment for coming to bis ruined master—myself—with the savings of twenty years, and laying them tearfully but respectfully at my feet. I can fancy Burke doinjr it!"—with a laugh, as th"t> man reappeared with the Pommery, suggesting, somehow, a welMubrieated machine; he was too precise to appear human. '"I believe Mr Jones is keeping you on, Burke?" Annesleigh said, as hil man drew the cork. "Hope you'll find it a jjood place. Sorry to have to lose you." "Thank you, sir"—the features "were quite expressionless—"l'm sorry, too! Couldn't wish for a better master, I'm sure, sir. Is there anything else I can do, sir, before I leave?" Burke did riot sleep in the flat. He had a wife and family somewhere in the background, in the bosom of which he had quite a reputation for cheerful badinage, incredible as it might seem. "No: there's nothing else, I think. Here. Burke, I want to give you this before you go." Almost unthinkingly, Annesleigh crumpled a twenty-dollar note, the only one that the departing Gregory and Elliott had left him, into the man's hand. "Good-bye, Burke, and good luck!" Left alone, Bob Annesleigh ponred out a glass of Pommery. Gaily he lifted it to his lips. f, To the new life beginning—to the unknown!" he cried. "Luck, I've iriven you all I had; now come back tome!" With the stroke of twelve his tenancy of the rooms would expire. In his bedroom were a couple of satchels already packed with what things he was taking with, him; everything else had bc?n sold or Jet to the incoming Amos Iv. JoT»es. Annesleigh had intended going to a hotel that night: but suddeny. with a laugh, lie remembered that every perrax he possessed, except twenty 'dollars, had gone with Gregory and Elliott, and fn.it last, lone bill he had just presented to Burke. What an ass he had been not to compel them to refund! Now be had not even enough to pay for a cab to the hotel with his bags. He could have pawned his watch, but the pawnshops were all shut at this hour of the night. He could borrow from some acquaintance of Ms at the club, no doubt, but he had never asked a loan in his life. No: his original idea of the hotel should be abandoned. He was in a curiously elated mood. A feeling of gay irresponsibility possessed him. The position filled him with a peculiar sense of enjoyment. Here was he ,a man brought up delicately, -who had never in his life earned a dollar, beggared of everything but his sunny temper and his gay, happy-go-lucky philosophy. For the first time in bis life he had a problem to solve, and his spirits rose to meet it. The unknown horizon of his life lay before him. crowded with new experiences. He was going to see life as it really was, raw —at first hand "Think I'll leave my traps here for to-night. Amos K. Jones is a good fellow, and won't object." Annesleigh put on his hat and coat in leisurely fashion by the fire, and walked slowly toward the door. He turned to take a last look at the room that would never be his again, and then saw the face of Enid Cartaret looking at him from the miniature on the mantel. He had forgotten her! "You'd feel complimented, Enid, if you knew!" He went bade ar»J took the miniature. Unfastening flne of the bags, he dropped it in carelessly. Then he turned off the electric light in the room, and passed out, banging the door after him. He left the key of the flat with the sleepy hall porter, and went out into the streets, with New York's myriad noises singing round Mm. Before him stretched a puzzling uncertainly that somehow piqued his curiosity. (To be continued daily.)