The Slave of Silence

elow with just a glimpse of a pretty laughing girl in it with a man by her side. From another part of the Royal Palace Hotel came sounds o

with the dead black dress she wore, a dress against which her white arms and throat stood out like ivory on a back-ground of ebony and silver. There was no colour about the girl at all, save for the warm, ripe tone of her hai

ded to bow to nothing under a millionaire. The table decorations were red in tone, there were red shades to the low electric lights, and masses of red carnations everywhere. No taste, and incidentally no exp

, madame," a waiter suggested s

ent. And yet that face could ripple with delighted smiles, the little red mouth was made f

ill do-anything will do. I mean you have done

the question sauntered into the room. A wonderfully well-preserved man was Sir Charles Darryll, with a boyish smile and an air of perennial youth unspotted by the world, a man who was totally unfitted to cope

e you not satisfied? That table-setting is perfec

paid for," Beatrice sa

nnot for the moment say. If not, then our good friend Stephen Richford must lend it me

on in the glass opposite. The little pink nails were

. I am going to sell myself to him for money-money to save your good name. Oh, I know that I shall have the benediction of the church, less fortunate girls will envy me; but I am not a wh

yish innocence of Sir Charles's face changed suddenly, a wicked gleam came in

and come to the window with me. N

Beatrice cried. "Shameless extravagance that

you see those two men elaborately doing nothing by the railings opposite. You do? Well, they are watching me. They have been dogging me for three days. And if anything ha

's bare arm in a cruel grip, but she did not notice

o were against us have made unhappy discoveries. That is why those men are watching me. But if I can send the chairman a letter to-morrow assuming innocence and regret and enclosing a cheque for ￡5,000 to cover my fees and to recover all the shares I have sold, then I come out with a higher r

banks of red carnations; on the shaded lights and the exquisite table service. The

hom she despises, for the sake of his money. The records of the Divorce Court teem with such cases. For the battered honour of my father I am going to lose my own. Be silent

o grew all the more ardent as Beatrice drew back. And Stephen Richford was a millionaire. It mattered little that both he and his father had made their money in crooked wa

coldly. "My weakness has passed. I am not likely to

Feeling better, eh? I once fancied that that confounded

ver Beatrice's pale face.

us. But you parted us, and you thought that there was an end of it. But you were wrong. Let me tell the truth. I wrote to Mark in Venice, only last week, asking him to come to me. I got no reply to that letter. If I had and he ha

er. It had been an exceedingly lucky thing for him that the letter in question had miscarried. And nothing could make any difference now, seeing

. Don't you think that those carnations would be improved by a little more foliage a

to the deep crimson blooms. His face was careless and boyish and open again. From the next

ceive her. And do for goodness' sake try to look a lit

head of his family. He was going to give Beatrice away to-morrow; indeed, Beatrice would drive

far away. Gradually the world and its surroundings came back to her, and she was more or less conscious that som

in a soft, pleading voice; "I am

ested, "my father has these rooms. If you have

ly as it had risen. The intruder was unmistakably a lady, she was dressed from head to foot in silver grey, and had a bonnet to match. In some vague way she reminded Beatrice

at door opposite. These great hotels are so big, they confuse me. So you are Beatri

erhaps if you tell me your name I may be in a posi

e stood in the doorway. Her voice

tter," she said. "You can ca