Lucian stooped down and brushed an imaginary speck from his boot toe, saying, as he did so: "I was forestalled." "How?" "The--fellow--is dead." "Oh, well, I don't care about dead men--what I am anxious about is this--" "Oh, yes," maliciously. "Return to subject under discussion. You embarked in this enterprise in June--" "Bother," impatiently. "Late in Summer, bagged your game; in early Autumn, fitted up this jolly old rookery--" Cora gave a sniff of disdain. "Next--well, you know what next. We haven't been two months at this last job." "Nevertheless I am tired of it." "No?" "I won't stay here a prisoner much longer!" Davlin came close to her, and letting one hand rest upon her shoulder, placed the other over hers, which still lay upon the chair back. "Cora, we won't quarrel about this. The situation is as trying to me as to you; more so. But our safety lies in moving with caution, and--I will not permit you to compromise us by any hasty act. You understand!" His eyes held her as in a spell, and when, after a moment, the hand fell from her shoulder and his eyes withdrew their mesmeric gaze, the woman shrunk from under the one detaining hand and turned sullenly away, looking like a baffled leopardess. Davlin resumed his seat and his former careless attitude. Cora walked to the window and looked down upon the scene below. At length the man asked, carelessly: "Where's Percy?" "Down there," nodding toward the terrace, a portion of which was visible from her point of view. "And, of course, my lady is in her room watching from her window. When he throws away his cigar, and turns toward the house, she will come down; not before." Davlin laughed at her emphasis, and while the sound still vibrated on the air, the woman turned, and flinging herself upon a divan, said: "There, she is coming!" Complain as she might in private, Cora had acted her part to perfection. Between herself and Miss Arthur, there now existed an appearance of great cordiality and friendliness. While she treated Percy with utmost politeness and hospitality, the remembrance of ten years ago acted as an effectual bar to anything like coquetry, where he was concerned. Scarcely had Cora settled herself comfortably upon her divan, when the door opened noiselessly, and Miss Arthur sailed in, diffusing through the room the odor of Patchouli as she came. She was, as usual, a marvel of beflounced silk, false curls, rouge, and pearl powder. Her face beamed upon Cora in friendliness as she approached her, saying, with much effusion: "Oh, you poor child, how delightful to see you once more among us, and looking like yourself." Lucian arose and gallantly wheeled forward a large easy chair, saying: "And how charming you look, Miss Ellen; you make poor Cora appear quite shabby by contrast." Cora cast a rather ungrateful glance at the gentleman, and the spinster simpered, "Oh, you horrid man! Brothers are so ungrateful!"