Doctor Alberg’s gloved hand was resting in Vreeland’s palm—he was whispering, “You and I and Justine must watch”—when the calm, passionless face of Senator Alynton, with Miss Katharine Norreys on his arm, appeared. There was a hum of astonishment, of frank self-surrender to the Occidental beauty’s charms as Alynton gravely presented a tall, stately stranger, whose slightly silvered hair and chevalieresque bearing recalled the “Silver King.” “My friend, Senator James Garston,” began Alynton, but there was a crowd of a dozen men eagerly stretching willing arms, as Elaine Willoughby’s face contracted in a spasm of pain, and she fell senseless into Doctor Alberg’s firm grasp. “Only the old heart trouble. In five minutes madame will be herself,” suavely announced the doctor. “Perhaps a bit too tightly laced,” he whispered to Mrs. McMorris. It was a stately function, the dinner, which proceeded in a solemn splendor. Senator James Garston was gravely attentive at the hostess’ left, and only Vreeland knew when the lights were low that Garston had whispered, “I must see you, at once.” And with pale lips Elaine Willoughby had murmured, “At Lakemere, and to-morrow.” Justine had gained her long-needed clue. CHAPTER X. AN INTERVIEW AT LAKEMERE—SOME INGENIOUS MECHANISM.—“WHOSE PICTURE IS THAT?” Harold Vreeland was seated in a blaze of light, in his own rooms at four in the morning, anxiously awaiting a night visit from one who might unravel the whole mystery while the lonely Elaine Willoughby lay helpless in her secluded rooms, feebly struggling toward a return of her self-control. “What new devil’s jugglery is this?” muttered Vreeland, pausing in his wolf stride. He carefully recalled every action of the newly-made Senator and yet he was baffled at every turn. “Was the newcomer an agent of a morose husband, an old lover, or an unwelcome apparition from the clouded past?” He was baffled. For, he began to realize how baseless were his meaner suspicions of the past. There had been no unworthy love between Elaine and Hathorn. The devil’s poison of slander alone had excited Alida’s burning jealousy. She herself had only sought “a dead straight point” in the daring visit to his rooms. Elaine’s record was clear so far. “Was it only an old sorrow?” He pondered long. Even the pale-faced, proud girl, whom he would trap, so far had hugged her honest poverty to a stainless bosom. “I’ve been dead wrong on Alynton’s game all along. There’s neither an old love, nor a new intrigue, there,” he growled. “Justine has clearly proved that. Their union is only to be termed, ‘strictly business.’ “And the Senator’s frank, brotherly concern at Elaine’s sudden illness went no farther than Colonel Barton Grahame’s sympathy, Judge Endicott’s alarm, or my own undisguised interest. Here is a new jack-in-the-box. I must watch Senator Garston.”