Spencer, in his own vivid phrase, was "looking for trouble" the instant he caught sight of the actress. Had some Mahatma-devised magic lantern focused on the screen of his inner consciousness a complete narrative of the circumstances which conspired to bring Millicent Jaques to the Upper Engadine, he could not have mastered cause and effect more fully. The unlucky letter he asked Mackenzie to send to the Wellington Theater--the letter devised as a probe into Bower's motives, but which was now cruelly searching its author's heart--had undoubtedly supplied to a slighted woman the clew to her rival's identity. Better posted than Bower in the true history of Helen's visit to Switzerland, he did not fail to catch the most significant word in Millicent's scornful greeting. "And with _both_ cavaliers!" In all probability, she knew the whole ridiculous story, reading into it the meaning lent by jealous spleen, and no more to be convinced of error than the Forno glacier could be made to flow backward. [Illustration: "No," said Spencer, "ring for the elevator." _Page 217_] But if his soul was vexed by a sense of bygone folly, his brain was cool and alert. He saw Helen sway slightly. He caught her before she collapsed where she stood. He gathered her tenderly in his arms. She might have been a tired child, fallen asleep too soon. Her limp head rested on his shoulder. Through the meshes of her blue veil he could see the sudden pallor of her cheeks. The tint of the silk added to the lifelessness of her aspect. Just then Spencer's heart was sore within him, and he was an awkward man to oppose. George de Courcy Vavasour happened to crane his neck nearer at the wrong moment. The American sent him flying with a vigorous elbow thrust. He shoved Bower aside with scant ceremony. Millicent Jaques met a steely glance that quelled the vengeful sparkle in her own eyes, and caused her to move quickly, lest, perchance, this pale-faced American should trample on her. Before Bower could recover his balance, for his hobnails caused him to slip on the tiled floor, Spencer was halfway across the inner hall, and approaching the elevator. An official of the hotel hastened forward with ready proffer of help. "This way," he said sympathetically. "The lady was overcome by the heat after so many hours in the intense cold. It often occurs. She will recover soon. Bring her to a chair in the office." But Spencer was not willing that Helen's first wondering glance should rest on strangers, or that, when able to walk to her own apartments, she should be compelled to pass through the ranks of gapers in the lounge. "No," he said. "Ring for the elevator. This lady must be taken to her room,--No. 80, I believe,--then the manageress and a chambermaid can attend to her. Quick! the elevator!" Bower turned on Millicent like an angry bull. "You have chosen your own method," he growled. "Very well. You shall pay for it."