Produced by Chris Curnow, Michael, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net THE GOLDEN WEB BY ANTHONY PARTRIDGE _Author of "Passers-By," "The Kingdom of Earth" "The Distributors," etc._ WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WILLIAM KIRKPATRICK BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1911 _Copyright, 1909, 1911,_ BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. _All rights reserved_ Published, January 1911 THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A. [Illustration: He held the telegram in front of her face. "Read," he said.] CONTENTS BOOK ONE I A LIFE FOR SALE II THE PURCHASE III A FAMILY AFFAIR IV A MURDER V A DEBT INCURRED VI AN IMPERIOUS DEMAND VII LOVE OR INTEREST? VIII AN AWFUL RESPONSIBILITY IX WINIFRED ROWAN X AT THE THEATRE XI AN APPEAL XII RUBY SINCLAIR XIII AN INFORMAL TEA-PARTY XIV AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR XV THE EFFECT OF A STORM XVI A REPRIEVE XVII A NEW DANGER XVIII AN EXPENSIVE KEY XIX THE SEARCH XX IN DOUBT XXI RUBY IS DISAPPOINTED BOOK TWO I FREE TO DIE II A LAPSE OF MEMORY III A PAINFUL INTERVIEW IV A QUESTION V MUTUAL INFORMATION VI AN OPPORTUNE ARRIVAL VII HEFFEROM IS OPTIMISTIC VIII A BOLD MOVE IX LORD NUNNELEY IS FRANK X A BROKEN ENGAGEMENT XI BITTER WORDS XII A STRANGE BETROTHAL XIII DESPERATION XIV AN AFTERNOON'S SHOPPING XV A FRIEND XVI PASSION XVII A DESPAIRING CALL XVIII WINIFRED IS TRAPPED XIX MISS SINCLAIR'S OFFER XX THROUGH THE MILL XXI ALL AS IT SHOULD BE ILLUSTRATIONS He held the telegram in front of her face. "Read," he said Lady Olive came slowly forward to meet him "There was some matter which you wished to discuss, then?" Deane asked "I hate him!" she declared to herself. "I hate him now more than ever!" THE GOLDEN WEB BOOK ONE CHAPTER I A LIFE FOR SALE The contrast in personal appearance between the two men, having regard to their relative positions, was a significant thing. The caller, who had just been summoned from the waiting-room, and was standing before the other's table, hat in hand, a little shabby, with ill-brushed hair and doubtful collar, bore in his countenance many traces of the wild and irregular life which had reduced him at this moment to the position of suppliant. His complexion was pale almost to ghastliness, and in his deep-set, sunken eyes there was more than a suggestion of recklessness. He was so nervous that his face twitched as he stood there waiting, and the fingers which held his hat trembled. His lips were a little parted, his breathing was scarcely healthy. There was something about his whole appearance indicative of failure. The writing upon his forehead was the writing of despair.