"It's not worthy of you to spring to such conclusions!" Manners broke out before he could control himself. He expected Juliet to retort furiously, but she did not. She merely looked piteous--and young. "Jack," she said, sadly, "what am I going to do if that woman takes _you_ away from me as well as Pat?" "Nonsense," he bluffed. "I hope I shall show that she hasn't taken Pat--or anything of yours. You don't _want_ her proved guilty, I suppose?" "Not unless she is. But I'd rather it would be Pavoya than Pat. And it seems as if it must be one or the other." "It seems so to _you_--now. But wait." Juliet looked at him anxiously. "Can you think of any one else to suspect?" "I haven't had much time to think yet," said Jack. "To-morrow morning early, I'll get the best private detective in town: one who won't talk. Meanwhile, we must be patient. I suppose, of course, you've questioned Nickson about his master?" "That was one of the first things I did. Poor old Nick was almost bowled over when I said I feared that something had happened to his adored one. I didn't mention the pearls--naturally!--or that I thought Pat might have disappeared of his own accord. I watched Nick's face to see what he _knew_. I don't think he has an idea where Pat has gone. But--Jack, _he knows something_--something wild horses wouldn't drag out of him. I feel--I have a _flair_--it's about Pavoya. I've an idea Nick has taken messages. Togo has been bribed by her, too, I'm sure. And he won't speak. The woman is like Circe, with men of all sorts and classes. She has but to look at them to turn them into beasts!" "The woman" had looked at Jack. But she had not turned him into a beast. He had never felt less like a beast in his life than he felt at this moment! Yet--saint or Circe--by some magic she had won his loyalty. "Wild horses" would not have dragged her secrets from Nickson, Juliet said, and Jack believed she might be right. As for him, he would have had his tongue cut out sooner than tell his cousin that he was engaged to sup at Lyda's house. And it was almost time to go! What excuse could he make for leaving Juliet abruptly, without hurting her? He would not hurt her for a great deal. But he would hurt her if he must, rather than be late! CHAPTER XIV SUPPER AT TWELVE The house taken furnished by Lyda Pavoya belonged to a woman well known in society, who had gone abroad. Jack Manners had visited there before the war; but the drawing room was changed. There had been banal things in it. Now they were gone. Banality could not exist near Lyda. It seemed that in every form it must shrivel up, burnt away by the still fire of her strange, secret soul.