to the ladies at eleven o'clock when the three went upstairs to bed, and
had forthwith gone to spend the rest of the evening in the friendly
solitude of his armoury. Emerging thence an hour later into the hall, he
had come upon a picturesque, but heart-rending, spectacle. There, on the
third step of the grand staircase, stood Viviette, holding in one hand a
candle, and extending the other regally downwards to Austin, who, with
sleek head bent, was pressing it to his lips. In the candle-light her
hair threw disconcerting shadows over her elfin face, and her great eyes
seemed to glow with a magical intensity that poor Dick had never seen in
them before. As soon as he had appeared she had broken into her low
laugh, drawn away her hand from Austin, and, descending the steps,
extended it in much the same regal manner to Dick.

"Good night again, Dick," she said sweetly. "Austin and I have been
having a little talk."

But he had disregarded the hand, and, with a gruff "Good night," had
returned to his armoury, slamming the door behind him. There he had
nourished his wrath on more whiskey and soda than was good for him, and
crawled upstairs in the small hours to miserable sleeplessness.

This was the beginning of Dick's undoing, the gods (abetted by Viviette)
employing their customary procedure of first driving him mad. But
Viviette was not altogether a guilty abettor. Indeed, all day long, she
had entertained high notions of acting fairy godmother, and helping Dick
along the road to fortune and content. He himself, she learned, had
taken no steps to free himself from his present mode of life. He had not
even confided in Austin. Viviette ran over the list of her influential
friends. There was Lady Winsmere, a dowager countess of seventy,
surrounded by notabilities, at whose house she stayed now and then in