She's the naturally ablest woman I have ever known; but she wants to take short-cuts to a worldly Elysium, and it can't be done, not even with three times three millions--and three millions was her price." Suddenly he got up and went over to a table where were several dispatch-boxes.

Opening one, he drew forth from the bottom, where he had placed it nearly three years ago, a letter.

He looked at the long, sliding handwriting, so graceful and fine, he caught the perfume which had intoxicated Rudyard Byng, and, stooping down, he sniffed the dispatch-box.

He nodded.
"She's pervasive in everything," he murmured.

He turned over several other packets of letters in the box.