VIII


To the private apartment of Mr. Mavick, in the evening of the second
eventful day, where, over his after-dinner cigar, he was amusing himself
with a French novel, enters, after a little warning tap, the mistress of
the house, for, what was a rare occurrence, a little family chat.

"So you didn't horsewhip and you didn't prosecute. You preferred to
wriggle out!"

"Yes," said Mavick, too much pleased with the result to be belligerent,
"I let the newspaper do the wriggling."

"Oh, my dear, I can trust you for that. Have you any idea how it got
hold of the details?"

"No; you don't think McDonald--"

"McDonald! I'd as soon suspect myself. So would you."

"Well, everybody knew it already, for that matter. I only wonder that
some newspaper didn't get on to it before. What did Evelyn say?"

"Nothing more than what you heard at dinner. She thought it amusing that
there should be such a crowd to gaze at the house, simply because a
picture of it had appeared in a newspaper. She thought her father must
be a very important personage. I didn't undeceive her. At times, you
know, dear, I think so myself."