aunt in the West was taken ill, and she's been with her ever since. Tell
me, dearest, is everything all right now? Are you free to do what you
want?"

He shook his head morosely. "No, everything's all wrong. I blundered,
and I'm paying the price."

"You didn't find Luzanne Larue?"

"Yes, I found her, but it was no good. I said there was divorce, and she
replied I'd done it with my eyes open, and had signed our names in the
book of the hotel as Mr. and Mrs. Carnac Grier and divorce would not be
possible. Also, I'd let things go for a year, and what jury would give
me relief! I consulted a lawyer. He said she had the game in her hands,
and that a case could be put up that would discredit me with jury or
judge, so there it is. . . . Well, bad as she is, she's fond of me
in her way. I don't think she's ever gone loose with any man; this is
only a craze, I'm sure. She wanted me, and she meant to have me."

His mother protested: "No pure, straight, honest girl would--"

Carnac laughed bitterly, and interrupted. "Don't talk that way, mother.
The girl was brought up among exiles and political criminals in the
purlieu of Montmartre. What's possible in one place is impossible in
another. Devil as she is, I want to do her justice."

"Did she wear a wedding-ring?"

"No, but she used my name as her own: I saw it on the paper door-plate.
She said she would wait awhile longer, but if at the end of six months I