Violet tore open the envelope, and gasped, while the words she read grew blurred before her eyes. For a moment or two she could scarcely grasp their meaning, and sat staring at the message, and trying vainly to read it again. The branch of a trailer rose rapped upon the window as it swayed in the moaning wind, and Hester ran on.

"Lottie had out her diamonds, the whole of them-somewhat defective taste considering the character of the affair. Mrs. Pechereau was there with Muriel in a black gown I've seen already-one would never fancy she was that girl's mother."

Violet closed her fingers tight upon the telegram, for her companion's prolixity was growing unendurable, and she wanted quietness to realize what had befallen her. The firelight had died away, and, now her senses were rallying, she could not read the message. Then a faint flicker sprang up again, and Hester, glancing round, saw the tension in her face.

"You're not listening," she said. "Why, what is the matter? Isn't Lily coming?"

Violet rose up with a curious slow movement, and her face showed almost as pallid as the white marble of the mantle she leaned against. Then a little quiver ran through her, and the fingers of one hand trembled upon the stone.

"I don't know," she said. "Let me be quiet for a moment, Hester!"

Hester rose, and laid a hand restrainingly upon her arm. "Can't you tell me? What has gone wrong?"

Violet let the telegram fall, and turned a cold, still face towards her.

"Tony is dead," she said, and sank back, shivering, into her chair.

"Oh," said Hester, "I am so sorry!"

The words were sincere enough, but just then the conventionality of them appeared incongruous, and when Violet made no answer Hester picked up the telegram and held it near the fire.

"Anthony Palliser killed in action, Santa Marta, Cuba. Particulars personally. Sailing New York Sat.u.r.day, Bernard Appleby," she read.

Then for the s.p.a.ce of minutes there was silence in the room save for the wail of the bitter wind outside, and Violet lay staring at the fire with vacant eyes. Hester found it becoming unendurable, and touched her companion gently.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she said.

"No," said Violet, with a visible effort as she rose. "I think I will go home. You will tell your father and the vicar, Hester. I can get my hat and wraps myself. I don't wish you to come with me."

She straightened herself slowly and pa.s.sed out of the room, while when she entered it again dressed for the drive Mr. Earle laid his hand upon her shoulder.

"You have our sincere sympathy, but I can't help fancying that it is not altogether hopeless yet," he said.

The girl looked up at him with incredulity in her eyes. "You must know it is. What do you mean?" she said.

"Well," said Earle, with a glance at the vicar, who had come in and heard the news, "it is a little difficult to make clear. Still, you see, my dear, that men who do not answer to the roll after a battle now and then turn up again. A blunder may have been made in the confusion, while we do not after all know anything very much to the credit of Mr.

Appleby. I would suggest that your mother ask lawyer Craythorne to meet him. Men are apt to believe what they wish to now and then."

"I don't in the least understand you."

Earle appeared disconcerted. "If this distressful news were true Appleby would be the gainer."

Once more the girl looked up with a chilling serenity that unpleasantly affected him.

"There is no hope left," she said. "The man who sent the message made absolutely certain or he would never have written it."

Earle glanced at the vicar, who nodded gravely.

"I wish I had not to admit it, but I feel that Violet is right," he said. "Would you like me to drive over with you, my dear?"

"No," said the girl quietly. "I would much sooner be alone."

She pa.s.sed out from among them, and Earle turned to the vicar again.

"It does not sound charitable, and I fancy you and Hester know rather more about the affair than I do, but I can't help believing that Tony could not have done Violet a greater kindness," he said. "I am, however, a trifle astonished that you seem to partic.i.p.ate in the curious belief she evidently has in Appleby. You can't be well acquainted with him, and he is taking a serious risk in coming here since there is still a warrant out for him."

The vicar smiled. "I have heard a little about him, and I scarcely think he would let the fact you mention stop him carrying out what he felt was his duty."

The vicar's faith was warranted, for while Violet Wayne was driven home that evening with her thoughts in a whirl, and a remorseful tenderness which overlooked the dead man's shortcomings bringing a mist to her eyes, Appleby sat under the electric lights in a room of a great New York building. He felt the pulsations of a vast activity about him, for the thick doors and maple part.i.tions could not shut out the whir of the elevators, tinkle of telephone bells, murmur of voices, and patter of hasty feet, though his eyes were on the agreement bond he was attaching his name to.

Harding, who sat opposite him, smiled as he laid down the pen.

"Now I guess that's all fixed up, and I don't think I'm going to be sorry I took you into the business," he said. "You'll draw 'most enough already to live out on the Hudson if it pleases you, and, so far as I can figure, we'll roll in money once we get the sugar trade going again.

You'll go right back and straighten up when we've whipped the Spaniards out of Cuba."

"I'm afraid I have scarcely deserved all you have offered me, sir," said Appleby, whose fingers trembled a little as he took up the doc.u.ment.

"n.o.body could have antic.i.p.ated this result when I came across you on board the 'Aurania.'"

Harding rose, and opening a cupboard took out a bottle and two gla.s.ses, which he filled to the brim.

"I've no great use for this kind of thing in business hours as a rule, but the occasion warrants it, and I believe only Austrian princes and their ministers drink that wine," he said. "Well, here's my partner's prosperity!"

They touched gla.s.ses, and a flush crept to Appleby's forehead, while there was a little kindly gleam in Harding's eyes.

"I'm grateful, sir," said Appleby, and stopped abruptly.

Harding laughed. "Now, don't worry," he said. "I've no use for speeches, and am going to get my money out of you. This is a business deal, and there's something else to go into. You have quite fixed to sail in the 'Cunarder' on Sat.u.r.day?"

"Yes. Still, I should not be much more than three weeks away."

"Well," said Harding a trifle dryly, "I don't quite know. I think Nettie told me there was a warrant out for you, and I believe it's quite difficult to get round the police in your country."

"I must take my chances. There is a woman in England that Tony Palliser was to have married. He expected me to go."

Harding looked at him curiously. "Oh, yes," he said.

"Nettie told me about her. Well, I guess if you feel that way I have got to let you go, and I don't quite know I'm sorry you have these notions.

They're a kind of warranty, and it wasn't altogether because you've got in you the snap and grit that makes a man who can handle big affairs I made you my partner. Still, time's getting on, and Nettie is expecting us at Glenwood."

He summoned two clerks, who attested the agreement, and in another ten minutes they were waiting for the elevator, while late that night Appleby contrived to find Nettie Harding, who had been very gracious to him, alone. She was standing by the marble hearth in the great drawing- room where snapping logs of scented wood diffused a warmth and brightness which would, however, scarcely have kept the frost out but for the big furnace in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

"What happened to-day has your approbation?" he said.

Nettie smiled. "Now, I think that is quite unnecessary when you know it has," she said.

"Perhaps it is. I can't help fancying you were not greatly astonished at your father's decision."

"Still," said the girl quietly, "I don't think I could coax Cyrus P.