cowering against the wall, terribly shaken, a hand gripping a corner of the
packing-box for support, the other pressed against the bosom of her dress
as if in attempt forcibly to quell the mad hammering of her heart.

In her brain, a turmoil of affrighted thought, but one thing stood out
clearly: _now_ she need look for no mercy. The first time it had been
different; she had not been a woman had she been unable then to see
that the adventure intrigued Maitland with its spice of novelty, a new
sensation, fully as much as she, herself, the pretty woman out of place,
interested and attracted him. He had enjoyed playing the part, had been
amused to lead her to believe him an adventurer of mettle and caliber
little inferior to her own--as he understood her: unscrupulous, impatient
of the quibble of _meum-et-tuum_, but adroit and keen-witted, and
distinguished and set apart from the herd by grace of gentle breeding and
chivalric instincts.

How far he might or might not have let this enjoyment carry him, she had no
means of surmising. Not very far, not too far, she was inclined to believe,
strongly as she knew her personality to have influenced him: not far
enough to induce him to trust her out of sight with the jewels. He had
demonstrated that, to her humiliation.

The flush of excitement waning, manlike soon had he wearied of the
game--she thought: to her mind, in distorted retrospect, his attitude
when leaving her at dawn had been insincere, contemptuous, that of a man
relieved to be rid of her, relieved to be able to get away in unquestioned
possession of his treasure. True, the suggestion that they lunch together
at Eugene's had been his.... But he had forgotten the engagement, if ever
he had meant to keep it, if the notion had been more than a whim of the
moment with him. And O'Hagan had told her by telephone that Maitland