"Oh, why does God make His foulest things the fairest?" she moaned. "Why did He put love in our hearts if it must turn our lives to ashes? Why must one be so young and yet so miserable? Oh, mother, mother, are all women wronged like us?" Madeline arose and commenced pacing the floor restlessly, nervously. She had come here with no fixed purpose, nothing beyond the indefinite determination to defy and thwart the man who had entrapped her. She had never for a moment feared for her safety, or doubted her ability to accomplish her object. A plan was now taking shape in her mind, and as she pondered, she extended her march, quite unthinkingly, on into the adjoining room, the door of which stood invitingly open. The first object to attract her attention was the light traveling coat which Lucian had worn on the previous day; worn when he was pleading his suit under the trees of Oakley; and in a burst of anger, as if it were a part of him she was thinking of so bitterly, she seized and hurled it from her. As it flew across the room, something fell from a pocket, almost at her feet. She looked down at it; it was a telegram, the one, doubtless, that had called him back to the city the day before. A business matter, he had said. Into her mind flashed the words of Olive Girard, "a professional gambler." She would see what this "business" was. Stooping, she picked up the crumpled envelope, and quickly devoured its contents. Must see you immediately. Come by first train; am waiting at your quarters. CORA. Madeline went back to the lighter, larger room, and seating herself, looked about her. Again the words of Olive rung in her ears. "Cora!" she ejaculated. "He obeyed her summons, and brought _me_ with him. And she was here only last night--and where has she gone? This must be the 'notorious,' the 'handsome.' Ah, Lucian Davlin, this is well; this nerves me for the worst! I shall not falter now. This is the first link in the chain that shall yet make your life a burden." She crossed the room and touched the bell. "Now for the first real step," said Madeline, grimly. The door opened and the dark face of Henry appeared, bowing on the threshold. "Come in, Henry, and close the door," said Madeline, pleasantly. "I want you to do me a favor, if you will." Henry came in, and stood waiting her order. "Will you carry a note for me, Henry, and bring me back an answer? I want _you_ to take it, because I feel as if I could trust you. You look like one who would be faithful to those who were kind to you." "Thank you, lady; indeed I would," said the man, in grateful tones. Madeline was quick to see the advantage to be gained by possessing the regard and confidence of this man, who must, necessarily, know so much that it was desirable to learn of the life and habits of him, between whom and herself must be waged a war to the very death.