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Out of the Ashes by Ethel Watts Mumford
page 14 of 202 (06%)
Gard returned home, disgusted with himself. Why had he forced his mood
upon these men? Why, above all things, had he mentioned Mrs. Marteen to
Mahr, whom he despised? For the simple pleasure of speaking of her, of
mentioning her name? Why had he suspected Mahr of being one of her
victims? And why, in heaven's name, had he resented the very same
notion? He lay in bed numbering the men of money and importance whom he
knew shared Mrs. Marteen's acquaintance. They were numerous, both his
friends and enemies. What had _they_ done? What was her hold over
_them_? Had she in all cases worked as silently, as thoroughly, as
understandingly as she had with him? Did she always show her hand at the
psychological moment? Did she rob only the rich--the guilty? Was she
Robin Hood in velvet, antique lace and sables? Ah, he liked that--Mme.
Robin Hood. He fell asleep at last and dreamed that he met Mrs. Marteen
under the greenwood tree, and watched her as with unerring aim she sent
a bolt from her bow through the heart of a running deer.

He awoke when the valet called him, and was amused with his dream. Not
in years had such an interest entered his life. He rose, tubbed and
breakfasted, and went, as was his wont, to his sister's sitting room.

"Well, Polly," he roared through the closed doors of her bedroom, "up
late, as usual, I suppose! Well, I'm off. By the way, we aren't using
the opera box next Monday night; lend it to Mrs. Marteen. That little
girl of hers is coming out, you know, and we ought to do something for
'em now and again. I'll be at the library after three, if you want me."

At the office he found a courteous note thanking him for his kindness in
offering to direct her investments and inclosing Mrs. Marteen's cheque
for twenty-five thousand dollars. Gard studied the handwriting closely.
It was firm, flowing, refined, yet daring, very straight as to alignment
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