"I will end this here, madame! In two weeks Isabel Valois will be eighteen. If she is not forthcoming I will invoke the law. If I am forced to fight you, you will not have a cent from me. I will never marry you! I decline to provide for you or yours, unless you yield this girl up. You must leave the country before the senatorial election. That is my will." Natalie faces her old lover. Tyrant of her heart once, he is now a malignant foe! "Philip Hardin," she pleads, "look out of that window. You can see the house my child was born in--YOUR home, OUR home! Philip, give that child a name; I will leave you in peace forever!" There is the old music in her velvet voice. "Never!" cries the Judge. "Give up the girl you took away. Leave at once. I will secure your fortune. You cannot force me. You never could. You cannot now!" He glares defiance to the death. His eyes tell the truth. He will not yield, "Then God help you, Philip," the woman solemnly says. "You will never reach the Senate! You will never live to marry another woman!" "Do you threaten me, you she-devil?" snarls Hardin, alarmed at the settled, resolute face. "I have a little piece of news for you which will block your game, my lady. There is no proof of the legitimacy of the child, Isabel Valois. A claim has already been filed by a distant Mexican relative of the Peraltas. The suit will come up soon. If the girl is declared illegitimate, you can take her back to France, and keep her as a beggar. You are in my hands!" He chuckles softly. "Philip Hardin, you are a liar and a monster. This is your conspiracy. Now, show yourself a thief, also." Natalie retorts. The words cut the proud man like a lash. He seizes her jewelled wrist. He is beside himself. "Beware," she hisses. "By the God who made me, I'll strike you dead." He recoils. She is once more the queen of the El Dorado. Her ready knife is flashing before his eyes. "You have a fearful reckoning to answer. You will meet your match yet at the game of Life!" she cries. But, Natalie de Santos is stunned by his devilish plot to rob the despoiled orphan even of her name. He reads her face. "I will give you a day to think this over. I will come to-morrow." Hardin's voice rings with ill-concealed triumph. "Not ten minutes will you give me. I tell you now I will crush you in your hour of victory, if I die to do it. Once more, will you marry me and give your child a name?" She rises and paces room, a beautiful fury. "You have your answer," he coldly replies. "Then, may the plundered orphan's curse drag you down to the hell you merit," is Natalie's last word as she walks swiftly out of the door. She is gone. He is alone. Somethings rings with dull foreboding in his ears as his carriage rolls away. An orphan's curse! A cold clammy feeling gnaws at his heart. An orphan's curse! Ah! from the tomb of buried years the millionaire hears the voice of Maxime Valois and shudders: "May God deal with you as you deal with my child."