Williams news., 1917-12-20
CHAPTER XIV.

moment, when the telephone interrupt
 ed Mrs. Beggarstaf answered with no apparent emotion and nothing more than a noncommittal "Yes?" followed at a brief interval by ''Yes, if you please, at once" Then, hanging up the receiver, she set herself artfully to de | lay Mrs. MerriIeeS. ''ThiS is all very
 well,'' she announced with complacent | determination; "but I want to know what real evidence you have got against Craven"
 "Nothing," Quoin admitted, beyond circumstantial evidence, which, how ever well grounded, wouldn't hold to- gether a minute under the analysis of any able-bodied criminal lawyer" "No actual proof?' "Not a whit. You may be sure Ora ven never took an active hand in any of these affairs: merely engineered them with his inside information and superior intelligence. Be sure, .too, that whenever job was pulled off he was always conspicuously somewhere else.''
 ''Then what do you propose doing?"
 "Why-Betty permitting-scare him silly and run him out of town. I don't think we want more than that-aside from the necklace" "That will content me-" Mrs. Merri- lees affirmed.
 Here a knock fell on the door, and the Dowager Dragon, for all her pro- tested infirmity, rose with the sprynesS of youth.
 "No, don't go yet. It's only some thing I've been expecting. And want one word more with youAabout the girl Lydia. Whatever you do, under stand, I won't have her run out of town, or annoyed, or frightened, or ill-treated in any way" With this she disappeared down the hallway. Followed a sound of voices murmuring. ' Quoin and Mrs. Merrilees fingered in doubt and silence, the gaze of each seeking the others; while, to one side, by these two forgotten, Peter Trait waited, watching, some little sadness and envy in his heart. Not that he grudged Quoin the guer- don of a Ifetime's unselfish devotion; but he felt quite justified in envying them the happiness that was to be theirs. If he could ever hope to see Lydia Craven look up into his face as Betty Merrilees was just then looking up at Quoin-
 Betty, in a melting huWor and gown representing the finest flower of the Rue de la Paix, to Peters fancy cut figure that filled your eye. And in such matters Peter esteemed him. self distinguished amateur.
 But once Lydia Craven had entered | fhn cared to look at Betty. A fellows got only certain limited amount of eye sight, after all, and it's no good vast ing it on anything he isn't really crazy about.
 In the severity of her street dress the girls figure had a graciousness that even Betty's couldn't shadow. And Lydia's face, set against the darkness of one of those trim little hats which in those days were just beginning to oust the art-nouveau-coal-hod enormi- ties-Lydia's ruddy hair, the transpar- ent pallor of her brow, the fine glow in cheeks fresh from the rainy night, her dark and animated eyes brighten ing with surprise and half-timid pleas ure-taken altogether Peter thought Lydia's fairness was to Betty's as sun to candlelight.
 But with delight apprehension was mixed in his mind. There were still some phases of life Peter hadn't fath- | omed; for one, the antagonism within the sexes-within the sex, rather; for 1t was the attitudes often adopted toward one another by the most ami | able and delightful of women that per plexed his understanding Now, with real provocation on her side, what would be Betty's attitude | toward this rival beauty? His Solicitude was wasted. Either he underestimate1 the generosity of | Betty, or Lydia's ingenuousness dis | armed. Constraint was absent from their meeting: they went at once to | each others arms.
 Its so good to find you here, Betty.
 Oh, good evening, MT. Quoin-Mr.
 Trait, good evening. The best part is,
 thought you were stopping here, and | was in despair when I found you
 weren't"
 | 'It's dear of you; but-' l "I was so anxious to give you-this !''
 As she spoke the puzzle box left Lyd-
 ia's keeping finally and for all time. Betty Merrilees uttered low cry
 ''This?'' she questioned in a strange
 voice. "What?"
 Must I say?" Lydia laughed. q
 don't believe you really want me to-
 "Not my necklacer' the woman
 gasped.
 "There! I didn't tell-did I, Mrs.
 Beggarstaff?'
 "No, dear child; but we knew all the
 time."
 Incontinently Lydia was over
 whelmed by a very unexpected, un-