“Discretion, silence, and a willingness to go through fire to hide any woman’s secrets—_voilà_—the perfect doctor—the successful medical man! Shall we work together—you and I?” The young schemer grasped the greedy German’s hand. “I’ll stop at nothing—to help you. By God! you shall have her every secret.” “It’s a go. Loyal to the end,” whispered Vreeland. “And you and I breakfast at Martin’s every Sunday till I am a happy bridegroom.” The alert physician glided away to where Justine Duprez’s eyes called him, with their velvety lure. Harold Vreeland’s face was lit up with a tender sympathy, as he knelt before the fair woman who lay in a _chaise longue_ before her superbly sculptured fireplace. There was a surprise in store for “the knight of the ribbon blue.” His patroness’ face was stoically calm. She was no hysterical weakling! With a perfect self-possession, she plunged at once into the “business in hand.” “A modern mystery,” he murmured. “A sphinx of the heart,” for Elaine Willoughby, Napoleon-like, ignored her ailments, whether of a mere passing weakness or “memory’s rooted sorrow.” And at what secret cost? “Time presses!” she said. “Follow my every word. For, I have sent them all away. There is only Doctor Alberg in the house—and Justine always keeps him in her eye.” Vreeland breathed hard. It dawned upon him that the universally pliant French woman was in the receipt of several salaries. “She is a smart devil,” he thought, with a glow of pride. “I shall have to travel some, this spring—in connection with very important movements and reactions of a specialty in the stock market, which you alone will know of. “You and I must be the only ones to handle the concealed intimacy of ours. Not even Endicott suspects. “He never must. No one in the firm. Should foul play or awkwardness reveal it, the firm name of Wyman & Vreeland would come down in a day. So, mark my every word. I will not return to New York till you are installed in your new apartments in the Elmleaf. “It is well located, in the ‘thirties’—I have taken the best one on the top floor to aid you in the gay and showy life that I wish you to lead there. “You will find your new man, Bagley, a veteran London valet, just brought over, waiting to report to you now at the Waldorf. He has never been in America before, and none of our opponents know him. I had Justine engage him through Low’s Exchange. “The rooms are already decorated and arranged for you. They have been ready for a month, and no one can ever trace the ownership. The whole belongings are yours.” Vreeland found a voice. He began his grateful praise. She smiled faintly. “Nay! no thanks! It is purely a business matter. If you wish anything else, give a list to me. I will transmit it to the furnisher, who will at once provide. There will be no bills. I hope that the rooms will please you. Of course, I shall never see them.”