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 in blues and yellows and where were pretty, painted chairs and little tables for cards and tea.

By all appearances, we were being welcomed at a summer country dwelling of a gentleman of taste and leisure and, if the pictures and bronzes were of his own selection, a dilettante in art.

A broad, stone stairway led upward; and we all proceeded toward it, playing the outward rôles of guests and hosts—all but the girl, Helen Lacey.

She suddenly freed her hand from Bane's appropriation and spun about to me.

"What happened after I left you?" she begged of me.

Bane also had swung about; and Boggs and Donley, suggestive less of hosts, at this moment, than of bailiffs, drew a little closer to me. She was pale and she bit her lips between her white teeth to stop their trembling as she faced me.

Bane, after his swift swing about, was become so indolent that he half closed his eyes while he watched me.