XXIII In which Varney, after all, Redeems His Promise




CAPTIVATING MARY CARSTAIRS




Captivating Mary Carstairs





CHAPTER I


THE CHIEF CONSPIRATOR SECURES A PAL

In a rear room of a quaint little house uptown, a great bronzed-faced
man sat at a piano, a dead pipe between his teeth, and absently played
the most difficult of Beethoven's sonatas. Though he played it divinely,
the three men who sat smoking and talking in a near-by corner paid not
the least attention to him. The player, it seemed, did not expect them
to: he paid very little attention himself.

Next to the selection of members, that is, no doubt, the most highly
prized thing about the Curzon Club: you are not expected to pay