Kent made fitting answers to all these queries, hung up the ear-piece and went away moodily reflective. He was due at a meeting of the executive committee of the Civic League, but he let the public business wait while he speculated upon the probable object of Elinor's telephoning him. Now there is no field in which the inconsistency of human nature is so persistent as in that which is bounded by the sentimentally narrowed horizon of a man in love. With Ormsby at the nodus of his point of view, David Kent made no secret of his open rivalry of the millionaire, declaring his intention boldly and taking no shame therefor. But when he faced about toward Elinor he found himself growing hotly jealous for her good faith; careful and fearful lest she should say or do something not strictly in accordance with the letter and spirit of her obligations as Ormsby's _fiancée_. For example: at the "conspiracy dinner," as Loring dubbed it, Ormsby being present to fight for his own hand, Kent, as we have seen, had boldly monopolized Miss Brentwood, and would have committed himself still more pointedly had the occasion favored him. None the less, when Elinor had begged him privately to see her before moving in the attack on the junto, he had almost resented the implied establishing of confidential relations with her lover's open rival. For this cause he had been postponing the promised visit, and thereby postponing the taking of the final step in the campaign of intimidation. The unexplained telephone call decided him, however. He would go and see Elinor and have the ordeal over with. But as a preliminary he dined that evening with Ormsby at the Camelot Club, and over the coffee had it out with him. "I am going out to see Miss Brentwood to-night," he announced abruptly. "Have you any objection?" The millionaire gave him the shrewdest of over-looks, ending with a deep-rumbling laugh. "Kent, you are the queerest lot I have ever discovered, and that is saying a good bit. Why, in the name of all the proprieties, should I object?" "Your right is unchallenged," Kent admitted. "Is it? Better ask Miss Brentwood about that. She might say it isn't." "I don't understand," said Kent, dry-tongued. "Don't you? Perhaps I'd better explain: she might find it a little difficult. You have been laboring under the impression that we are engaged, haven't you?" "Laboring under the--why, good heavens, man! it's in everybody's mouth!" "Curious, isn't it, how such things get about," commented the player of long suits. "How do you suppose they get started?" "I don't suppose anything about it, so far as we two are concerned; I have your own word for it. You said you were the man in possession." Ormsby laughed again. "You are something of a bluffer yourself, David. Did you let my little stagger scare you out?" David Kent pushed his chair back from the table and nailed Ormsby with a look that would have made a younger man betray himself.