“And you, of course, think that you should be the king-pin of the whole machine,” sneered Vreeland. The half-angered German snorted a warning. “Look out for yourself,” growled Alberg. “She does not let the French maid go out of her sight now, and her new nurse has not dared to leave. Remember, I will hold you responsible about the stolen envelope. I have covered up my own tracks.” And then he proudly exhibited the newspaper clipping headed, “An Ungrateful Protégé,” which described the heartless pillaging of Dr. Alberg’s office and rooms by “Miss Martha Wilmot,” who had “decamped for parts unknown.” The police detective opinions and the portentous interviews were all set out in extenso. “When Milady finds that she was been robbed, too, then look out for squalls,” was the parting admonition of the Doctor. It brought grave shadows to Vreeland’s face. Harold Vreeland was startled when his dupe left him. For it now flashed over him that his evening _cartes de visite_ had lately only elicited the same stereotyped answer: “Mrs. Willoughby is too unwell to see anyone.” He had, however, “improved the shining hours” by a flank movement to the Hotel Savoy, where he had drifted far, very far, into the good graces of that sparkling heiress, Miss Katharine Norreys. And his daily welcome grew warmer with each visit. He was getting on famously. Senator James Garston’s absence “on Washington visits,” with the usual trips of a busy money magnate from fever center to fever center of the golden whirlpool, had left the young man to “exploit” the many graces of the tall, willowy blonde. He had often mused over the possibility of an advantageous alliance. “Here is a woman, young, rich, and with a powerful Senatorial backing. I might even be able to get inside the ring. For now I hold the secret of a combination which no one dares avow. It would be my ruin, however, to use it until the time comes to rule or crush Mrs. Willoughby. She must be my ‘golden goose’—she alone—and, I must not kill her too soon.” A long introspection proved to him that his old “waiting game” was the only safe plan. “If Garston makes up to me, I can meet him half way. Perhaps he might exchange the secret of my sly patroness’ early life for the golden key to the Sugar situation. Together we could surely control her. And acting alone, I might easily be crushed between this secretly warring couple. “But, when their dual secret is mine, then I can always act against my weakest foe. They will never dare get rid of me then,” he craftily premised, for he saw gold ahead—solid, easily earned gold. And the busy devil in his cold heart laughed and made merry. But one circumstance now disquieted him as to the resplendent Miss Katharine VanDyke Norreys—the absence of a respectable, social womanly background.