"My dear Mr. Ulstervelt, are you trying to make love to me? You nice
Americans! How gallant you can be. I am quite old enough to be your
mother. Believe me, I thank you for the compliment. I can't tell you how
I appreciate this delicate flattery. You are very delicious. But," as
she arose graciously, "I'd follow Mr. Rodney's example if I were you.
I'd go to bed." Then, with a rare smile which could not have been more
chilling, she left him standing there.

"By Jove," he muttered, passing his hand across his eyes, as if
bewildered, "what was I saying to her? Good Lord, has it got to be a
habit with me? Was I making love to--_her_?" He departed for the
American bar.

Mrs. Rodney had but little sleep that night. She went to bed in a state
of worry and uncertainty, oppressed by the shadows which threatened
eternal darkness to the fair name of the family--however distantly
removed. Katherine's secret had in reality been news to her; she had
not paid enough attention to the Medcrofts to notice anything that they
did, so long as they did not do it in conjunction with the
Odell-Carneys. The Odell-Carneys were her horizon,--morning, noon, and
night. And now there was likelihood of that glorious horizon being
obscured by a sickening scandal in the vulgar foreground. Inspired by
Katherine's dreadful conclusions, the excellent lady set about to
observe for herself. During the entire evening she flitted about the
hotel and grounds with all the snooping instincts of a Sherlock Holmes.
She lurked, if that is not putting it too theatrically. From unexpected
nooks she emerged to view the landscape o'er; by devious paths she led
her doubts to the gates of absolute certainty, and then sat down to
shudder to her heart's content. It was all true! For four hours she had