of her family, feeling more keenly than usual the utter sordidness
of their whole scheme of existence. Unwelcome thoughts of this
sort had come of late, and would not be banished. Once she had
made a pet of a magpie, but the bird's habits had forced her to
dispose of it. She remembered the way it forever pried into
things; how nothing was safe from that sharp beak and inquisitive
eye. Its waking hours had been busied in a tireless, furtive
search for forbidden objects. Now she could not help likening her
mother to the bird, although the thought shocked her. There was
the same sly angle of countenance, a similar furtiveness of
purpose; the very expression of Mrs. Knight's keen, hard eyes was
like nothing so much as that of the magpie's. Displeased at her
own irritation, Lorelei made the excuse of a shopping trip to
escape from the house.

At the nearest news-stand she bought the afternoon papers, and was
relieved to find no mention of the incidents of the night before.
It appeared that Hammon and Merkle had succeeded in their attempt
to suppress the story--if, indeed, there had ever been any
intention of making it public.

Looking back upon last night's homeward ride, she was wholly at a
loss. In view of Jim's words and of what she had gathered at the
theater she had felt sure of Lilas's complete knowledge of the
blackmail plot, but Hammon's unwavering faith in the girl and
Lilas's own story of her relations with Max Melcher had awakened a
doubt. If Lilas had told the whole truth, and if she really cared
for Hammon, the affair, despite its clandestine nature, would bear
a more favorable construction, and Lorelei could not entirely
withhold her sympathy from the offending pair. Of the two Hammon