The only thing now was to comfortably reach Paris. For she knew that even across the sea she could draw upon Harold Vreeland’s golden hoard. “He may even come over there, to me, at Paris, and I can finish plucking him there.” With a demure sleekness, she plumed herself and closely watched the inscrutable face of her beautiful mistress. Justine well knew the awkwardness of a mistress daring to arrest her confidential maid. There was, however, a perfect serenity lingering upon the noble lines of the human mask which now baffled even the velvety-eyed Justine, even though her wits were sharpened by her fears. In the period since the discovery of the abstraction of the vastly important document, Elaine Willoughby had been fortified with Judge Endicott’s calm counsels. She knew, too, that she was surrounded with friends, lynx-eyed and active, and that her emissaries were in the enemy’s camp. It had only taken Endicott ten minutes to give her a list of her probable friends and foes. “The whole thing proves that you were known to be lulled into the idea that your precious deposit was still there. No one would dare to threaten or blackmail you and produce that paper; it is too risky. It would land all the gang into Sing Sing at once.” He recounted all those whom its possession could possibly benefit. “There is Garston, a rugged egoist, and a cool-headed, middle-aged possible wooer. A man who would confidently pit his money and place against Alynton, even though younger and a thousand times his superior in any woman’s eyes.” Elaine Willoughby listened in a hushed relief, for, as fond woman often does, she had only told her aged Mentor half the truth. She had merely hinted at Garston’s growing infatuation. “There is Vreeland, whom I thoroughly detest, and think him at heart capable of any sneaking villainy. Moreover, Noel also thinks so. Your generous fancies have cost you dearly in the past, in your easily volunteered faith. Separately or together this dangerous document would benefit Garston and Vreeland. “Now, mark me. Garston would use it, of course, only to bring you to his arms. You would hear of it from him only, for that purpose only.” “And Vreeland?” tremblingly demanded his client. “Would blackmail you for a fortune if you ever fell in his power. I hate his sleek ways, his insincere eyes, his cat-like moves. “Minor enemies are Alberg and your French maid. This German doctor shall not have sole charge of your health again. His explanation about the nurse is a very lame one. Of course, you can not pin him down, for he refuges himself behind an ignorance of your loss, and points to her flight and the hubbub in the papers and the police records. “Of course, you were too ill to be bothered, and so you may have been despoiled by either the maid or one or both of the nurses.