“My what?” a dangerous light in her eyes. But Janet dodged the question. “You must go,” she said, her words tumbling over each other in her haste. “My guests will arrive here in a few minutes. Pauline must not find you here--there will be another scene----” Janet fairly wrung her hands--“People will talk so.” “Quite right, they will,” but the significant emphasis passed completely over Janet’s head. “I have no objection to confronting Pauline again, and particularly do I wish to see Tom Nichols.” “Ah, indeed; and what do you wish to see him about?” “I desire his advice,” calmly. “I started to go to Fort Myer this afternoon and got as far as the Aqueduct Bridge in Georgetown when I recollected he was to dine here----” “And so decided to come here yourself,” Janet laughed recklessly. “Your motives are not so pure as you would lead me to suppose.” “Stop!” Marjorie’s imperious tone made even the jealous girl pause. “I think you have taken leave of your senses.” “You are welcome to your opinion,” retorted Janet defiantly. “But I insist on your leaving this house. Do you wish to be turned out again?” “I have never been turned out.” Marjorie was struggling to keep her temper within bounds. “I left this house of my own accord this morning. My clothes are still here, and here I shall remain until I am dismissed by your mother.” Janet’s eyes were dark with passion. “You dare to stay on as my chaperon?” “Yes. Your behavior to me tonight has made me reconsider my quixotic effort to shield you; from now on I shall strive to clear myself of your lying testimony against me.” “You leave me but one alternative....” “And that is----?” as Janet paused. “To have the servants put you out of the house.” “Janet!” Marjorie gazed at the young girl in stupefaction, and the latter’s eyes wavered and fell as she caught the keen reproach and pain which Marjorie’s face betrayed. For a second she battled with her better self. “I will give you just three minutes to leave this room and house of your own accord,” she said clearly. “At the end of that time I shall ring for the servants.” And she picked up the hammer belonging to the beautiful Chinese gong which her mother used to summon her maid. In the stillness the ticking of the dock on the desk was plainly audible. Slowly, very slowly Marjorie rose and walked with deliberation over to the door opening on the private staircase which led to Mrs. Fordyce’s suite of rooms on the floor above. Janet followed her movements with distended eyes; then the chamois-covered hammer in her hand rose and fell, stroke on stroke, until the room vibrated with the mellow tones of the Chinese gong.