"Oh, I do know much--much," Lola snapped her fingers. "Yes, I know that which I do know. I can stop him from being milord, and that I will--I will. If he is milord he will marry--you--you. But as my own George he will make me--me--" she struck her breast again--"me, Lola Velez, madame his wife." "You are talking nonsense," said Dorothy, coolly, though she felt annoyed and puzzled. "What can you know?" "That which I do know. Wait--oh, wait a day--one day, two day, three day, and then--" She snapped her fingers. "You see--yes--you see how clever I am. I go, I go, you white cat. I go to get my George." Lola darted away at a run, which slackened to a rapid walk as she neared the Park gates. Dorothy sat down again, too amazed to follow. CHAPTER XIV MRS. WARD'S TRUMP CARD Kowlaski was a large, fat, good-natured blackguard of a man, quite without principle. He came from some remote village in the Balkans and was of Jewish birth. In his early days he arrived in London penniless and strove to make a living by selling toys in the street. Then he turned scene-shifter at a music-hall, and while thus engaged educated himself to write and read and to speak English with wonderful fluency. Also he saved money and speculated in a small way, having the marvelous Hebrew instinct of picking out lucrative ventures. Shortly he became stage manager. Then he found a clever woman who sang badly and acted wonderfully. Kowlaski advertised her into a success and she proved grateful. There is no need to trace his steady rise; but one thing led to another until he became proprietor of the very music-hall which had witnessed his humble beginning. When he first set eyes on Lola he had guessed that it would pay to invest money in her. The success of the ballet proved that Kowlaski was right as usual, and he smiled his oily smile when he saw the crowded houses and looked over the receipts. The ballet would run for more than a year. He was sure of that, and set about some other business now that the music-hall was flourishing. It was at this point that Lola demanded a week's holiday. Kowlaski whimpered. He usually did so to make people think he was weak. But under his apparent weakness he was possessed of an iron strength. Having great experience of women he thought to control Lola, but she, being gifted with a superlative temper, laughed in his face. All his cleverness could not make her swerve from the point. "I want a week to myself," she said doggedly. They were talking in French, as Kowlaski could swear more easily in that tongue and wanted freedom of speech. "But, my dear child--" Kowlaski was always paternal--"it will not do. You are the draw, and if you go out of the bill the people will not come to my house." "I don't care. I want a week, and a week I will have." "Why do you wish for this week?" "That's my business." Kowlaski tried temper. "If you go, you leave my theater once and for all the time."