But they turned presently from even this savory morsel to their own affairs. Both were in peril, and it would not do to remain in reach of the law. Yet Ivan was by no means ready to give up his cherished plans. They sat far into the wintry dawn, exchanging confidences and plotting new schemes, to be unraveled on Fate's dark loom. CHAPTER LXV. A STARTLING DÉNOUEMENT. You may bury it deep, and leave behind you The land, the people that knew your slain; It will push the sods from its grave and find you On wastes of water and desert plain. ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. "Jones says there is a horrible old man down-stairs, mamma, asking for you, and will not go away until he sees you," Alpine Belmont said, entering her mother's _boudoir_ one rainy evening just a few days after the cyclone. "I will not see him. I have just refused to see that old impostor--my husband's brother, indeed!" contemptuously--"and I will not be annoyed again. Tell Jones to send the old beggar away." Alpine was pale. Her eyes had a troubled look. "He says that he is not a beggar, mamma--that he has claims on you. I am afraid you had better see him. He is making such a noise at the door, and Jones says he is somewhat intoxicated." "Tell Jones to pitch him into the street." "He tried to, but the old man was more than a match for him. Do come, mamma; it's so disgraceful, the sensation he is creating. People are gathering around the house. Let us have him in and try to pacify him." Her arguments conquered, and Mrs. Carew sent down word to admit the old man to a small room where the servants were accustomed to come to her for orders. Alpine's trepidation had somewhat unnerved her mother, and as she swept into the little room her air was a trifle less haughty, and her proud eyes gazed anxiously about for the cause of this commotion. There he lay, sprawled upon a luxurious sofa--an old, blear-eyed man in ragged garments, but with a very close-shaven head, and the stubble of several days' growth upon his chin. His keen, close-set eyes devoured with a hungry gaze the handsome face before him. A cry of surprise and terror burst from her blanching lips: "George!--George Harrison!--_you_!" "Yes, George Harrison--your husband!" answered the intruder, and a hoarse cry of despair broke upon the air from the lips of Alpine, who had glided in unheeded by both. She stood behind her mother, gazing with affrighted eyes at the man's coarse, leering face. Mrs. Carew recoiled--she threw out her white hands, all glittering with costly rings, as though to shut out some terrible sight. The man laughed at her terror and, gliding forward, seized and held her hands. "Are you glad to see me, my wife? Come, give me a kiss for the old times' sake, my beauty!" She struggled with him, loathing the offered caresses, and Alpine sprung to her mother's assistance, beating him back with dainty jeweled hands.