or even propose, heretofore. But she was right; the moment was critical,
and his presence might be necessary in Washington at any moment.

When, later that night, the lists were delivered at his home, he spent a
throbbing half-hour. There were several possibilities. Mrs. Allison was
Bermuda bound; so was Morgan Beresford. Both had fortunes, a whispered
past and ambitions. The Honorable Fortescue, the wealthy and impeccable
Senator, the shining light of "practical politics," was Havana bound on
the _Cecelia_, so was Max Brutgal, the many-millioned copper baron. Mrs.
Allison he discarded as a possibility. He was sure that Mme. Robin Hood
would disdain such an easy victim and refuse to hound one of her own
sex. Looking over the list, he singled out Brutgal, if it were the
_Cecelia_, and Beresford, if it were the _Bermudian_. Beresford was
devoted to the lovely and somewhat severe Mrs. Claigh. He might be more
than willing to suppress some event in his patchwork past.

Gard threw the lists from him angrily. After all, what right had he to
interfere? What business of his was it which fly was elected to feed the
spider? He went to bed, and passed a sleepless night trying to
determine, nevertheless, which was the doomed insect. He would have
liked to prevent the ships from leaving the harbor, or invent a
situation that would make it as impossible for Mrs. Marteen to leave as
it was for him to accompany her.

A few days later, when Mrs. Marteen finally announced her intention of
departing on the longer cruise, Gard seriously contemplated a copper
raid that would keep Brutgal at the ticker. Then he as furiously
abandoned the idea, washed his hands of the whole affair and did not go
near Mrs. Marteen for three days. At the end of that time, having
thoroughly punished himself, he relented, and continued to shower the