"To think that, she--my own beautiful and beloved wife--should turn coldly from me to lavish her precious love on a thing like that," he thought, jealously. Mr. Kenmore, in his indolent way, though unconsciously to himself, had possessed some little complacent conceit of himself. His mirror had told him he was noble-looking and handsome, and women's eyes had repeated it. His progress through society had been a complete ovation to his pride and his vanity. Men had honored him for his manliness as much as for his great wealth, and women had angled for him as a most unexceptionable _parti_. But the complacent conceit that the world had fostered in him for years, had received a terrible blow from Irene's indifference and her palpable preference for the weakly-handsome, guitar-playing and tenor-singing Julius Revington. "A compound of the dandy and the villain--a man who can plan behind her back to rob her of the knowledge of her honorable name, who cares nothing for the grief and shame of her wronged mother! To think that she should love _him_! And most probably she hates me for having re-appeared when she believed me dead. I have a most disagreeable task before me, for I must prove to her the unworthiness of the villain on whom she has set her heart," he mused, gravely. "Are you through with your questioning?" inquired Mrs. Leslie, noting his pre-occupied silence. "Yes," he replied, adding, with a slight smile: "Perhaps you would like to ask me some questions now." "Yes, I would," she smiled, with engaging frankness. "I am ready to reply to you," he answered, cordially. "Perhaps I shall startle you," she said; "I am going to ask you a leading question, as a lawyer would say. You must remember that I give you _carte blanche_ not to answer it unless you wish." "Thank you for the permission," he said. "Let me hear it." She looked at him with an odd gleam in her bright, kindly eyes. "It is this," she said. "I believe that you and Irene Berlin, my _protege_, have met before last night. Am I right?" He looked at her with a curious, intent gaze. "Mrs. Leslie," he said, "I can better answer that question if you will tell me whether I may count on your silence and friendship in the strange dilemma in which I find myself placed." She put out her hand to him impulsively. "No one can say that Laura Leslie ever failed them in the hour of trouble," she said, gravely. "You may count on my silence and my truest friendship if it can avail you." He pressed her hand, gratefully. "It will be an incalculable benefit to me," he said. "Perhaps you can help me and advise me." "I will do both if I can," replied the charming widow. "Then I shall tell you my secret," he replied. "Mrs. Leslie, it was not mere chance as I pretended that brought me here last night. I have followed Clarence Stuart across the ocean on a self-appointed mission to right the wrongs of the innocent and bring the guilty to justice."