"Faugh! I'm as well at the plant as here, and there I am going. You let me alone to evade the Carters."

"But why in thunder are you so determined to make this change?" demanded Venner.

An amorous fire came stealing into the woman's resolute eyes, and she shrugged her shapely shoulders significantly.

"You should know why without asking," she slowly answered, with her gaze fixed upon his changing countenance. "It is because I love you, Rufe, and wish to be where you spend so much of your time."

"So much of my time?" echoed Venner, inquiringly.

"So at least you tell me."

"Do you doubt it?"

"I know that five days and nights have pa.s.sed since you came here to see me," cried Cervera, bitterly. "I have only your own word in explanation of your neglect."

"That should be enough," said Venner, curtly.

"Yet a man after a new love does not shrink from lying to an old,"

retorted Cervera.

"Pshaw! You are jealous again."

"A woman who loves as I love is always jealous."

"Of whom now?"

"You know of whom."

"I tell you I have not seen Violet Page since the theater closed."

"I have only your word for it," repeated Cervera, with incredulity bright in her sensuous eyes. "You know what I told you, Rufe. I'll not tamely permit that pale-faced nightingale to come between you and me.

You know what I told you. I would kill her as I would a--a snake!"

Despite his own stiff nerves, Venner recoiled from the look on the woman's desperate face. Her voice had fallen to a hiss like that of the reptile mentioned.

"You are mad, Sanetta," he cried, irritably. "You have no occasion for this jealousy and hatred."

"I have had! You know that I have had--and your face shows it!"

"You have none now--absolutely none now!"

His emphatic declaration fell upon Cervera with an effect which Venner did not at first understand.

She sprang quickly toward him, gripping him hard by the wrist, while her every nerve seemed stimulated with sudden agitation.

"None now? None now--now?" she fiercely reiterated, in inquiring whispers. "Do you mean that--that it is done? that it is done?"

"Done?" gasped Venner, amazedly. "Is what done? What the devil are you driving at?"

She drew back, searching his eyes with hers, and hers were like those of a demon, in her momentary suspense.

"Then it isn't--it isn't?" she hissed, through her white teeth. "I thought from what you said that it was. I thought--"

"Good G.o.d! what do you mean?" cried Venner, aghast for a moment.

Then, struck with a sudden recollection, he turned and s.n.a.t.c.hed an evening paper from a pocket of his coat, which he had tossed on a chair.

He had recalled certain leader lines which had caught his eye earlier in the evening, yet which he then had not had sufficient interest to follow.

Now he hurriedly opened the paper and read the story, or so much of it as enabled him to guess the truth.

It was the newspaper story of the girl found dead in Central Park that afternoon, with the mystery involving the sudden fatality, and the names of the murdered girl and her mistress, Violet Page.

A half-smothered oath of horror and dismay broke from Venner, after a moment.

It brought Cervera to his side, and she s.n.a.t.c.hed the paper from him and read--the story of her own failure; the miscarriage of her own jealous and murderous design.

She suppressed the shriek of mingled disappointment and fury that rose to her twitching lips, then pa.s.sionately cast the paper upon the table.

"Well, what do you make of it?" she demanded, glaring at Venner's colorless face.

"No need to ask," he replied, hoa.r.s.ely. "You know what I make of it."

"You think I did it?"

"I know you did it!"

"And killed the wrong girl?"

"And killed the wrong girl!"

"Can you guess how?"

"I don't care how. I know that you did it."

"You will not betray me?" hissed Cervera, crouching before him, with eyes never leaving his.

"I have no wish to betray you."

"You dare not! you dare not!"

"I shall not!"

"If you do--"

The woman checked her words for an instant, and ran her hand into the bosom of her dress. When she drew it forth it gripped a naked poniard, upon the polished blade of which the rays of light flashed with many a wicked gleam and glint.

"If you do," she repeated, "I will send you after her, Rufus Venner! I will do even more! I will expose our whole game, and our whole gang!"