"The Virgin indeed!--and _his_ child!--well, I've taught him!" and she flung past the Russian servant with a look which was a curse, so that the old man crossed himself and quickly barred the entrance door, when she stamped off down the stairs. Arrived in her gilded salon at the Universal, she would like to have wrung some one's neck. She had never been so full of rage in her life. She did find a little satisfaction in a kick at Fou-Chow, who fled whining to his faithful Marie who had come in to carry away her mistress' sable cloak. The maid's face became thunderous. A look of sullen hate gleamed in her dark eyes. "She will kick thee, my angel, just once too often," she murmured to the wee creature when she had carried him from the room. "And then we shall see, thy Marie knows that which may punish her some day soon!" Harietta, quite indifferent to these matters, telephoned immediately to Ferdinand Ardayre. He must come to her instantly without a moment's delay! And she stamped her foot. A plan which might give her some satisfaction to execute had evolved itself in her brain. He was in his room in another part of the building, and hastened to obey her command. She was livid with anger and seemed to have grown old. She went over and kissed him voluptuously and then she began: "Ferdie," and she whispered hoarsely, "now you have got to do something for me. You are not going to let the child of Verisschenzko be master of Ardayre! We are going to gain time and perhaps some day be able to do away with it. Now I have got a plan which will lighten your heart." She knew that she could count upon him, for since the birth of the little Benedict and the death of John, Ferdinand had stormed with threats of vengeance, while knowing his impotency. His life with Harietta had grown a torment and a hell--but with every fresh unkindness and pang of jealousy she caused him, his low passion for her increased. He knew that she loved Verisschenzko, whom he hated with all his might--and if she now proposed to hurt both his enemies, he would assist her joyfully. "Tell it me," he begged. So she drew him to the sofa and picked up a block and pencil. "Do you possess any of the writing of your dead brother, John, or if you don't, can you get some from anywhere?" Ferdinand's face blazed with excitement. What was she going to suggest? "I always keep one letter--in which he ordered me never to address him and told me I was not of his blood but was a mongrel Turk." "That is splendid--where is it? Have you got it here?" "Yes, in my despatch box. I'll go and fetch it now." "Very well. I will get rid of Stanislass for the evening and we can have some hours alone--and you will see if I don't help you to worry them hideously, Ferdie, even if that is all we can do!" And when he had left her presence, she paced the room excitedly. "It will prevent Stepan's marrying her at all events for; a long time."