Virginia glanced at Blount, then she took a deep breath and drew herself up very straight. "No," she said, "I spoke to him first about buying back father's stock." "But after that," he said, "didn't you hand him over the money and say it was sent by me?" "No, I didn't," she answered. "After the way you had treated me I didn't think it was right." "Not right!" he repeated with a slow, dazed smile. "Why--why wasn't it right, Virginia?" "Because," she went on, "you were trying to deceive me and beat me and mother out of our rights. You knew all the time that father's stock was still ours--and that Mr. Blount never even claimed it!" "Never claimed it!" cried Wiley, suddenly roused to resentment. "Well, Virginia, he most certainly did! He offered to sell it to me for five cents a share when I took out that option on the Paymaster!" "Now, now, Wiley!" began Blount, but Virginia cut him short with a scornful wave of the hand. "Never mind," she said. "I'll attend to this myself. I just want to tell him what I think!" "What you _think_!" raved Wiley, suddenly coming up fighting. "You've been fooled by a bunch of crooks. Never mind what you think--did you give him the money and tell him it came from me?" "I did not!" answered Virginia, her eyes flashing with hot anger, "and while I may not be able to think, I certainly wasn't fooled by _you_. No, I took your money and put it in the bank, and I let your option expire!" "My--God!" moaned Wiley, and groped for the door, but in the hall he stopped and turned back. There was some mistake--she had not understood. He slipped back and looked in once more. She was shaking hands with Blount--and smiling. CHAPTER XXVIII THE WAY OUT When a woman treads the ways of deceit she smiles--like Mona Lisa. But was the great Leonardo deceived by the smile of his wife when she posed for him so sweetly? No, he read her thoughts--how she was thinking of another--and his master hand wove them in. There she smiles to-day, smooth and pretty and cryptic; but Leonardo, the man, worked with heavy heart as he laid bare the tragedy of his love. The message was for her, if she cared to read it, or for him, that rival for her love; or, if their hearts were pure and free from guilt, then there was no message at all. She was just a pretty woman, soft and gentle and smiling--as Virginia Huff had smiled.