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Dereek; they say something to me. Ah! to wear a ruby like ‘Heart of Fire.’ ”
    She gave a little sigh, and then became practical once more.
    â€œYou don’t understand these things. Dereek; you are only a man. Van Aldin will give these rubies to his daughter, I suppose. Is she his only child?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen when he dies, she will inherit all his money. She will be a rich woman.”
    â€œShe is a rich woman already,” said Kettering drily. “He settled a couple of millions on her at her marriage.”
    â€œA couple of million! But that is immense. And if she died suddenly, eh? That would all come to you?”
    â€œAs things stand at present,” said Kettering slowly, “it would. As far as I know she has not made a will.”
    â€œMon Dieu!” said the dancer. “If she were to die, what a solution that would be.”
    There was a moment’s pause, and then Derek Kettering laughed outright.
    â€œI like your simple, practical mind, Mirelle, but I am afraid what you desire won’t come to pass. My wife is an extremely healthy person.”
    â€œEh bien!” said Mirelle; “there are accidents.”
    He looked at her sharply but did not answer.
    She went on.
    â€œBut you are right, mon ami, we must not dwell on possibilities. See now, my little Dereek, there must be no more talk of this divorce. Your wife must give up the idea.”
    â€œAnd if she won’t?”
    The dancer’s eyes narrowed to slits.
    â€œI think she will, my friend. She is one of those who would not like the publicity. There are one or two pretty stories that she would not like her friends to read in the newspapers.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” asked Kettering sharply.
    Mirelle laughed, her head thrown back.
    â€œ Parbleu! I mean the gentleman who calls himself the Comte de la Roche. I know all about him. I am Parisienne, you remember. He was her lover before she married you, was he not?”
    Kettering took her sharply by the shoulders.
    â€œThat is a damned lie,” he said, “and please remember that, after all, you are speaking of my wife.”
    Mirelle was a little sobered.
    â€œYou are extraordinary, you English,” she complained. “All the same, I daresay that you may be right. The Americans are so cold, are they not? But you will permit me to say, mon ami, that she was in love with him before she married you, and her father stepped in and sent the Comte about his business. And the little Mademoiselle, she wept many tears! But she obeyed. Still, you must know as well as I do, Dereek, that it is a very different story now. She sees him nearly every day, and on the 14th she goes to Paris to
meet him.”
    â€œHow do you know all this?” demanded Kettering.
    â€œMe? I have friends in Paris, my dear Dereek, who know the Comte intimately. It is all arranged. She is going to the Riviera, so she says, but in reality the Comte meets her in Paris and—who knows! Yes, yes, you can take my word for it, it is all arranged.”
    Derek Kettering stood motionless.
    â€œYou see,” purred the dancer, “if you are clever, you have her in the hollow of your hand. You can make things very awkward for her.”
    â€œOh, for God’s sake be quiet,” cried Kettering. “Shut your cursed mouth!”
    Mirelle flung herself down on the divan with a laugh. Kettering caught up his hat and coat and left the flat, banging the door violently. And still the dancer sat on the divan and laughed softly to herself. She was not displeased with her work.

Seven
    L ETTERS

    â€œ M rs. Samuel Harfield presents her compliments to Miss Katherine Grey and wishes to point out that under the circumstances Miss Grey may not be aware—”
    Mrs. Harfield, having written so far fluently, came to a dead stop, held up by what has proved an insuperable difficulty to many other people—namely, the difficulty of