The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-03-28
THE FATAL RUBY
BY
 CHARLES GARVICE Author of "Just GirI," .'Diana and Destiny" "In Wolf's Clothing," etc.
Copyright, 1909 By George H. Doran Company
Continued,)


 at his lip, as if he were not con- vinced.
 That is all very well,'' he said in a low voice, "but she is not Italian; she is English, every inch of her; she will not play the part of a puppet You forget that I have seen her. Why, man, you could not force her to do anything, however trivial, against her will I tell you, remember the girl"
 ''You remember what she was,' said Raven, with callousness which proved the rapid growth of his dis like. hatred, of the girl he held in his power. "She is not what she was; she has changed. It has been necessary he shrugged his shoulders-"to keep an eye upon her; she has, on occasions, shown a disposition to de. ceive me, to thwart me. Alas! I have been compelled to restrain her lib- erty. Oh! it is no hardship; the house is large enough, as you see; the grounds are extensive and beautiful; she has plenty of room in which to move about But the bird grows weary of even a gilded cage; and, if I know women, she will be glad to exchange her present life of restraint for the freedom of married woman. You are young-and not bad looking and shrewd enough to value the treasure I consign to your charge. We will settle it at once.
 He walked across the room to thu bell.
 Dexter Reeee rose and followed, as if to prevent him ringing.
 'It's late!' he said. with barely cnnt ealcd dyitatio.' ''She will have retired for the night. Tomorrow"
 "Tomorrow the marriage will be performed" said Raven, with smile ana a se. ture "It will be only kind, considerate, to prepare Cara. You agree with me, I am sure."
 He rang the bell, gave message to the servant, came. back to the table, and, filling the glasses, raised his, saying:
 ITO your future happiness!'
 Dexter lifted his glass to his lips; but he could not drink, and he set the wine down untouched. His brain was in whirl. Up to the present, he had been calm, self-possessed enough; he had even been able to control himself when Raven had agreed to share the proceeds of the ruby; but this prospect of marrying the girl who was Sir Mortimer's daughter shattered his self-command, overwhelmed him. Moreover, Raw ems cool acceptance of the proposal thought it possible-in fact, absolute ly certain-that he could compel the girl to marry whom he pleased seem ed to Dexter Reece simply preposter- ous; and it was some minutes before he realized that he was in foreign Iand-in Italy-where such sudden contracts are still not infreauent.
 Then, again, he was impressed by the interruptions nature of the man with whom he was dealing, and, un- consciously, he began to reflect as it were Ravens audacity All the same, Dexter Reece was too clever not to know that he was being dragged out of his depth. But could he draw back? He himself had proposed the marriage; could he now declare that the idea was too preposterous, too melodramatic-in fact, impossible?
 The minutes passed. Dexter Reece sank in a chair, with his hands thrust in his pockets, his head lowered, lis tened in a kind of stupor to the other man, who continued talking in a monotonous voice, as if to himself, of the places where the Giant Ruby could most safely be offered for sale. Presently the door opened; there was rustic of silk-a girlish figure, wrapt in a silk peignoir, stood re- garding them.
 Dexter Reece sprang to his feet, and looked at her half fearfully. As he did so he recalled the face of the girl who had stopped the horses out side the mill. Could it be possible that this was the same girl? The change in her smote even his callous heart. She was lovely still, Iovelier perhaps than when he had seen her last; but her face was pale, her eyes wore an expression of sorrow, of anxiety, almost of /despair--there were dark shadows beneath them; the face was thin and hollow. The bird had indeed futtered and pined in it's gild- ed cage! But she still held herself erect, her eyes met Dexter Reece's with the old pride the old hauteur and defiance; the expression in them now was too contemptuous for sur prise; and she waited with perfect self-possession and composure, as if he were nothing more than a servant.
 Dexter Reece lowered his eyes be- fore her steady gaze, and stood quite still, with his hands pressed on the table.
 'You sent for me-" said Cara in a low voice, coldly, steadily.
 "A thousand pardons for disturbing