“What will they do with us?” she asked Arthur quite simply. “Will we get the same as those men?” “Do you mean your brothers?” She glanced behind her with an air of superb disdain. “Brothers?” she echoed, with much scorn. “Those fellows our brothers? No. And we aren’t sisters, either, or daughters to that old woman. We’re each on our own. And there’s no credit in owning it, as I guess you folks know all about us, as much as we know ourselves.” Arthur was astounded. She smiled at him scornfully. “Well, we’ve had a good time!” she said at last, in a half-regretful tone. “You Britishers are mighty easy to gull, aren’t you? One has only got to call oneself a millionaire, to speak with an accent that wouldn’t be tolerated on our side, and to give one’s address as Chicago, and the best of you are ready to open your arms--and your pockets. So, if you’re taken in now and then, it’s not surprising.” “Then--aren’t you--anything to do with--the millionaire?” gasped Arthur. “Just wish we were!” replied Delia simply; “no such luck. We’re just a mixed lot of adventurers and adventuresses, making a common cause to ease the pockets of your silly society folk, and to get ourselves a pleasant time. If it had only lasted a little longer,” she added, with a sigh, “we’d each have landed a stockbroker or one of your wooden-headed baronets, and then we’d have been fixed up to rights!” Arthur turned slowly to look at Cora. She had dried her eyes, and was sitting rather disconsolately on the sofa, while the constables who had charge of both these younger ladies remained at a moderate distance, satisfied that they had them both under observation. A moment later, there was a movement in the group round the door which led to the card-room, and Mrs. Van Santen, closely guarded by two constables, came in. At the sight of the two girls, she ran forward and would have thrown herself on Delia’s neck, with a smothered sob and a cry of “My daughter!” but Delia avoided her embrace and said shortly-- “Oh, we’ve had enough of this. We’re going to tell the truth, all that we know. Our contract’s ended now, and we must save ourselves.” Mrs. Van Santen at once became a changed woman. The sweet look of tenderness with which she had flown towards Delia altered to a hard expression of anger and resentment, as she stopped short and putting her head on one side, said-- “Say, have you given us all away, then?” “No,” answered Delia shortly. “You have to thank those two card-sharpers in there for doing that.” “Do you mean my sons?” “No, you haven’t any sons,” retorted Delia, who seemed to take a sort of calm delight in making her confession as complete and as public as possible. “Those two men whom you call your sons are no more children of yours than they are brothers of ours. They’re just a pair of swindlers who don’t know how to swindle without being found out.”