“Is she so much fairer than I?” exclaimed Queenie, in intense pique, bridling up in an instant. Her mother laughed softly, saying: “I fancied that remark would arouse you from the lethargy into which you are falling; that was my purpose in saying it. Pretty? Yes, the girl is more than pretty, but you are beautiful, my peerless Queenie; you must not forget that.” The very next day occurred the reading of the will, and then--the thunderbolt from an apparently cloudless sky burst. It was found that the so-called reputed millionaire was a bankrupt. There was scarcely enough money left after his just debts were paid to insure him a decent burial. “I cannot, I will not believe that I have been cheated thus!” cried Queenie, springing to her feet and tearing the trappings of heavy crape from her and trampling them under foot. Even the lawyer, who was reading the last word of the will, paused in wonderment at this heartless exhibition of rage, and in the very presence, too, of the dead. He almost feared that the enraged beauty, who had wedded the old man for his wealth, would hurl the casket to the floor. It was Raymond Challoner who led her from the room. “My disappointment is as great as yours,” he said, grimly, “but I seem able to control myself better. We are both paupers, it seems,” he went on, in the same whisper, “and we should sympathize with each other.” “Of course,” he added, “marriage is for a second time not to be thought of in connection with you or me, but even though I will not be obliged to shield you with my name, you can yet be of use to me, and I to you, in keeping the secret of the true cause of my uncle’s death.” Queenie was crushed, humiliated to the very earth. She made no comment. As though in a glass darkly, she was trying to outline her future. As a wealthy young widow, her place in society would have been one to be envied. With her father a bankrupt, and the man she had married a bankrupt as well, she saw nothing before her save seeking employment for her daily bread. Could she ever hope to win John Dinsmore then? She would belong to one world and he to another, and those words lay as far apart as heaven and earth. Her companion, who was still clasping her arm tightly as he led her along, broke into her reverie by saying: “Let us step into the music-room for a few words more, Queenie. I have something of importance to say to you still. Consent to aid me and I will make it worth your while; you shall have a fortune at least half as great as the one which you have just lost, if I can win what I am aiming for. Will you spare me a few moments of your time, and give me your undivided attention?” She laughed a low, harsh laugh. “My time is not so valuable now as--well, if you have any plan to offer by which I may have the hope of retrieving my fallen fortunes, why should I not listen to your plans--and eagerly?”