“The breaking of me, you mean,” he snapped, the old grievance revived. “If you hadn’t come here, I could have explained everything to Diana--Miss Ford.” “I like ‘Diana’ better,” she said. “That young dame is surely no miss. She’s either been married or she’s studied first-hand. If I hadn’t come!” She jerked up her head derisively. “Why did you?” he asked. Even now he half believed the story she had told. Illusions die hard, but she was mercifully sudden. “Because my man double-crossed me,” she said coolly. Gordon could not believe the evidence of his ears. “Your man? Your husband, you mean?” She flung away the cigarette, stood up and stretched her hands about her head. “My husband is the straightest thing that ever happened,” she answered. “I’m talking of Dan--Double Dan, you call him!” The tick-tick of the kitchen clock filled the interval. “You’re working--with--Double--Dan?” he breathed. Even now he could not believe her. She smiled pityingly. “Surely,” she nodded. “Why do you think I allowed myself to be made love to by you? Be honest with yourself and tell me what there is in your equipment that a woman could rave about?” He stammered a wrathful denial. “I didn’t make love to you,” said Gordon hotly. “We talked about things ... and you ... and me--about our tastes....” “If you had as much experience as I have,” said Heloise, “you’d know that that was being made love to.” She nodded wisely. “Maybe you didn’t know--you know now.” Gordon’s anger was rising. “We talked on--on a higher plane,” he said sharply. “We talked of ... imponderable things. There was never ... never a caress. I hardly held your hand. Do you suggest there was anything in our little talks about prehistoric creatures,” he sneered, “or in our interchange of thought about the subconscious ego?” To his horror she nodded. “Sure! That’s how highbrows make love. When they start in to tell me about the Dinornis and the Silurian age, I know they got a crush on me.” She herself might have been a Dinornis or something equally extinct and terrible by his attitude toward her. “Then it _was_ a plot to get me away?” he asked breathlessly. “Didn’t you know?” She was frankly surprised. “You’re a slow thinker--but you’re right! It was my job to get you away good and safe, and I could have done it, whilst Double Dan----” “Impersonated me!” He saw all things clearly. Mysteries were mysteries no more. There was little left upon which a harassed man need speculate. Her face was sombre and brooding. Evidently she was thinking happily.