Part 21 (1/2)

”I wonder,” he said, looking at her thoughtfully, ”what made him take such a fancy to you! Rather sudden, wasn't it, eh?”

Maud tossed her head.

”I don't see anything so wonderful about that,” she declared.

”Listen to me, Maud,” her husband said, rising to his feet. ”You aren't a fool--not quite. You've spent some time with Peter Ruff.

How much--think carefully--how much does he remind you of Spencer Fitzgerald?”

”Not at all,” she answered promptly. ”Why, he is years older, and though Spencer was quite the gentleman, there's something about Mr. Ruff, and the way he dresses and knows his way about--well, you can tell he's been a gentleman all his life.”

John Dory's face fell.

”Think again,” he said.

She shook her head.

”Can't see any likeness,” she declared. ”He did remind me a little of him just at first, though,” she added, reflectively--”little things he said, and sort of mannerisms. I've sort of lost sight of them the last few times, though.”

”When is this meeting with Fitzgerald to come off?” John Dory asked abruptly.

She did not answer him at once. A low, triumphant smile had parted her lips.

”To-morrow night,” she said; ”he is to meet me in Mr. Ruff's office.”

”At what time?” John Dory asked.

”At eight o'clock,” she answered. ”Mr. Ruff is keeping his office open late on purpose. Spencer thinks that afterwards he is going to take me out to dinner.”

”You are sure of this?” John Dory asked eagerly. ”You are sure that the man Ruff does not suspect you? You believe he means that you shall meet Fitzgerald?”

”I am sure of it,” she answered. ”He is even a little jealous,” she continued, with an affected laugh. ”He told me--well, never mind!”

”He told you what?” John Dory asked.

She laughed.

”Never you mind,” she said. ”I have done what you asked me anyway.

If Mr. Ruff had not found me an agreeable companion he would not have bothered about getting Spencer to meet me. And now he's done it,” she added, ”I do believe he's a little jealous.”

John Dory glared, but he said nothing. It seemed to him that his hour of revenge was close at hand!

It was the first occasion upon which words of this sort had pa.s.sed between Peter Ruff and his secretary. There was no denying the fact that Miss Violet Brown was in a pa.s.sion. It was an hour past the time at which she usually left the office. For an hour she had pleaded, and Peter Ruff remained unmoved.

”You are a fool!” she cried to him at last. ”I am a fool, too, that I have ever wasted my thoughts and time upon you. Why can't I make you see? In every other way, heaven knows, you are clever enough! And yet there comes this vulgar, commonplace, tawdry little woman from heaven knows where, and makes such a fool of you that you are willing to fling away your career--to hold your wrists out for John Dory's handcuffs!”

”My dear Violet,” Peter Ruff answered deprecatingly, ”you really worry me--you do indeed!”

”Not half so much as you worry me,” she declared. ”Look at the time.

It's already past seven. At eight o'clock Mrs. Dory--your Maud--is coming in here hoping to find her old sweetheart.”