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°f. CHANCE £$THER.<T LUCIA CHAMBERLAIN C€>rm&rr, i9aafir ^oaoivaKc/» ft»» "You think the ring is something he ought not to have had: something that belongs somewhere else?" He looked away from her, around the room, as If to pick up his answer from some of the corners. "Well, any way, It's lucky we waited about that •etttng." he said with quick irrele vance. "If you're going to be annoyed in this way you'd better let me have It." Why hadn't she thought of that! It was what any man might say, after hearing such a story as hers, yet it was the last thing she bad thought of, and the last thing she wanted. "Oh. leave it with me," she quaver ed, "at least till you're sure!" "Oh, no!" He gave his head a quick, decided shake. "If something should come out, you wouldn't want to he mixed up in it." "Then why not give it back to the Chinaman?" she tried him. "Oh, that's ridiculous." He was in a passion. His darkening eyes, his swelling nostrils, his aspect so out of proportion to her mild and almost playful suggestion, frightened her. He saw it and instantly his mood dropped to mere irritation. "Oh, Flora, don't make a scene about it. This thing has been on my mind for days—the thought that you had the ring. I was afraid I had no business to let you have it in the first place, and what you've told me to-night has clean knocked me out. I don't know what I'm saying. Come, let me have it; and if there's anything queer about the business, at least we'll get it cleared up." But, smiling, she retreated before him. "Why, Flora," he »rgued, half laugh ing, but still with that dry end of ir ritation in his voice, "what on earth do you want to keep the thing for?" By this time she backed against the window and faced him. "Why, it's my engagement ring." He looked at her. She couldn't tell whether he was readiest to laugh or rage. "You gave it to me for that," she pleaded. "Why shouldn't I keep it, until you give me a real reason for giving it up? If you really know any thing, who don't you tell me?" She was sure she had him there; but he hurst out at last: "Well, for a fact, I know it is stolen!" He leaned coward her; and his arms, still flung out with the hands open as argument had left them, seemed to her frightened eyes all ready for her, ready with his last ar gument, his strength. Once before she had feared herself face to face with the same threat in the eyes and body of another man. but here, her only fear was lest Harry should get the sapphire away from her. His doing so would dash down no ideal of him. It was mere phys ical terror that made her tremble and raise her hand to her breast. Instant-, ly she saw how she had betrayed the sapphire again. He had taken hold of her wrist, and, twist as she might, he held it, horribly gentle. She pressed back against the glass until she felt it hard behind her. "Harry." she whispered, "if you care anything, if you ever want me for yours, you'll take your hands away." She meant it; she was sincere in that moment, for all she shrank from him. Her body and mind would not have been too great a price to give him for the sapphire. But these he seemed to set aside as trivial. These he expected as a mat ter of course; he was going to have that other thing, too—the thing she had clung to as a man clings to life; and that now, parting from, she would give up not without a struggle as sharp as that with which the body gives up breath. She wrestled. He Seemed all hands. He put aside her struggles, her pleadings, as if they were thistle-down. Then all at once she felt his arm around her neck. She couldn't move her body. She could oniy turn her head from his hot breath. For a mo ment he held her, and yet another moment; and then, terrified at what this strange immobility might mean, •he raised her eyes and saw he was mot looking at her. Though he held bar fast be was not conscious of her. Straight over her bead he looked, through the window and down into the garden. Her eyes followed. It lay beneath, the wonder of its morn ing aspect all blanched and dim. She law the silhouette of rose branches in black on the sky. She saw the flowers and bushes all one dull tone. But in the midst of them the oval of the path ■hone white; and there, as in the aft •rnoon, standing, looking upward, was the dark figure of a man. Her heart gave a great leap. Just so she'd been summoned once before that day, but what infernal freak bad fetched him back to repeat that dan gerous sally, and brought him finally Into his enemy's grasp? She tried to make a gesture to warn him, and Just there Harry released her, dropped her so that she half fell upon the window seat, and made a dash across the room for the light. In a moment they were In darkness, Tn a moment, to Flora pressed against the window, the un id en sprang clear, and on the form less figure below the face appeared, white in the starlight looking up. She cried out in wonder. It was not Kerr, i It v, ,;s Fie blue-eyed Chinaman. After lier haunted drive, after her ; escape, after Shima's search, he was ; there, still inexorably there; small,di minished by the great facade of the house, but looking up at it with his calm eye. surveying it. measuring Its height, numbering its doors, trying its windows. Harry was beside her again. He was tugging frantically at the window. It insisted. She saw his hands trembling while he wrestled with it. Then it went shrieking up and he leaned out. "What do you want?" he called, and, though he used no name, Flora saw he knew with whom he was speaking. The Chinaman stood im mobile, lifting his round, white face, whose mouth seemed to gape a little. Harry leaned far out and lowered his voice. "Go away, Joe! Don't come here; never come here!" There was a quiv er in his voice. Anger or apprehen sion, or both, whatever his passion was, for the moment it overwhelmed him, and as the Chinaman stood un moved, unmovlng, at his commands, Harry turned sharp from the window and dashed out of the room. Flora heard him running, running down the stairs. She hung there breathless, waiting to see him meet the motion less figure; but while she looked and waited that motionless figure sudden ly took life. It moved, It turned, it flitted, it mixed with shadows, became a shadow; and then there was noth ing there. Nothing was there when Harry burst out of the garden door and stood staring in the empty oval. How dis tracted, how violent he looked, balked of his prey! He was stalking the gar den, beating the bushes, walking up and down. All at once he stopped and raised a white baffled face to her window. She shrank away. She was in peril of Harry now. He knew her no longer innocent. She had held the ring against him in the face of the fact he had told her It was stolen. And he must guess her motive. He must suspect her now. In her turn she ran, up and up a twisted side stair, shortest passage to her own rooms. At least lock and key could keep her safe for the next few hours. After that she must think of something else. CHAPTER XX. Flight. I!y five o'clock in the morning she was already moving softly to and fro, so softly as not to rouse the sleeping Marrika. By seven her lightest bag was packed, herself was bathed, brushed, dressed even to hat and gloves, and standing at her window with all the listening alert look of one in a waiting room expecting a train. She was watching for the city to begin to stir; watching for enough traffic below in the streets to make her own movement there not too no ticeable. Yet every moment she wait ed she was in terror lest her fate should take violent form at last and assail her in the moment of escape. She listened for a foot ascending to her room with a message from Clara! demanding an audience. She listened for the peal of the electric bell under Harry's hasty hand—Harry, arrived even at this unwarranted hour with heaven knew what representative of law to force the sapphire from her. But all her household was still un stirring when at last she went, soft step after step, down the broad and polished stair and across the empty, hall. She went quiet, direct, deter-i mined, not at all as she had fled on her other perilous enterprise only yes terday. She shut the outer door after her without a sound and with great, relief breathed in the frqsh and faint ly smoky air of morning. She walked quickly. It was a cross town car bound for quite another lo cality that she climbed aboard. It was filled only with mechanics and workmen with picks and shovels. She Bat crowded elbow to elbow among odors of stale tobacco, stale garlic, stale perspiration, and looking straight before her through the car window watched the aspect of the city, still gray, grow less gleaming and formal and finally quite dirty, and quite, quite dull. This was all as she had intended, very much in the direction of her er rand, and safe. But in Market street the car line ended, and she was turned out again in this broad artery of commerce where she was in dan ger of meeting at a ay moment people she knew. She made straight across the thoroughfare to its south side, turned down Eighteenth and in a mo ment was hidden in Mission street. She went, glancing at windows as she passed, looking for a place where she could go to breakfast. She turned Into the first restaurant that offered, and after a hasty glance around It to be sure no one lurked there that of the ing a It I ! 1 j ! I ; 1 1 ! j j i ; ; it a to of of a to of on lo It er as to flight, betray her she subsided Into ' the clatter with relief, it was one i more place to let time pass iu. for j it would he full two hours before she i could fulfill her errand. She stayed j as long as she dared, drinking two j cups of the hideous coffee; stayed ; while many came and went; until she ! felt the proprietor noticing her. That j revived her consciousness of the pos- ; sible dangers still between her and the end she held in view. She had heard of people being arrested forj suspicious conduct, She didn t feel] sure In what this might consist, but surely such an appearance could be avoided by walking fast and seeming to know exactly where one was go ing. It was ten o'clock in the morning, three hours since she had left her house and a most reasonable time ; of daylight, when Flora turned out of the flatness of "south of Market j street" and began to mount a slow-ris ing hill. It was a wooden sidewalk she followed flanking a wood-paved street, and these, with the wooden fences and dusty cypress hedges and the houses peering over them upon her looked worn, battered and belong ing all to the past. None the less it bore traces of having been a dignified past, and farther up on the crown of the hill among deep-bosomed trees, two or three large mansions wore the gravely triumphant aspect of having been brought successfully from a past empire Into a present with all their traditions and mahogany complete. Upward toward these Flora was look ing. Her breath was short from fast climbing. Her cheeks under her thin veil were hot and bright. As she neared the hilltop she glanced at a card from her châtelain, consulting the address upon It. Then anxiously she scanned the house fronts. It was not this one, nor this; hut the square white mansion she came to now stood so far retired at the end of Its lawn that she could not make out the number. As she peered a young girl came down the steps be tween the dark wings of the cypress hedge, a slim, fair, even-galted crea ture dressed for the street and draw ing on her gloves. As she passed Flora made sure she had seen her be fore. There was something familiar In the carriage of the girl's head and hands; something also like a pale re flection of another presence. Pale as It was, It was enough to reassure her that this was the house she wanted. She ascended the steps beneath the arch of cypress and Immediately found herself entering an atmosphere quieter even than that of the little street below. It. whs quiet with the quiet of protectedness, as If some one ] brooding, vigilant care encircled it, ] I defending it against all inroads of! ! violent action and thought. It had been long since any young girl had carried such a heart of passionate hopes and fears up this mossed path between these peaceful flower-beds. This appearance of the place began to bring before Flora the full enormity and Impertinence of her errand, but though her heart beat on her side as loud as the brass knocker upon the door, she had no mind for turning back. A high, cool, darkly gleaming inter 1 ior, mellow with that precious tint of But All Her Household Was Still Un stirring When at Last She Went Step by Step. time which her own house so lacked, received her. And here, as well as out of doors, all the while she sat waiting she felt that protected peace was still the deity of the place. To Flora's eager heart time was stream-, lug by, but the tall clock facing her measured it out slowly. Its longest golden finger had pointed out five min utes before the sweeping of a skirt coming down the hall brought her to her feet. Mrs. Herrick came in hatless, a honeysuckle leaf caught in her gray crown of hair, geraniums in her hand. Flora had never seen her so informal and so gay. Flora apologized. "I knew if I came at this hour I should Interrupt you, but really there was no help for It." She glanced down at her satchel. "I had to go this morning, and before I went I had to see you about the house. I'm going down to look at it and—and to stop a while." Mrs. Herrick hesitated, deprecated, j "But you know Mrs. Britton wasn't ! satisfied with the price I asked." I "Oh," said Flora promptly, "but I ; shall be perfectly satisfied with it, and 1 I want to take po: session at once." The positive maener in which she 1 waved Clara out of her way brought ! up in Mrs. Herrick's face a faint j flash of surprise: but it was gone iu j an instant, sundarieil by her ques tioning, puzsfied ci : sidération of the main proposition. "Oh, I hope you haven't come to tell me you want it changed," she pro. i t "It \ the ed It me. In be s It tested. ''You know it's quite absurd i t places—quite terrible indeed. It's 1S70 straight hrough, and French at that.; hut even such whims acquire a dignity if they've been long cherished. You couldn't put in or take out one thing without spoiling the whole char acter.'' "But 1 don't want to change it. lh want it Just as it, is," Flora explained.!i "It isn't about the house itself I've ! come, it's about going down there. 1 \ ou see there are—■some people, some j triends of mine. I haven't promised them to show fhe house, but I have quite ; promised myself to show it to them, ! and they are only here for a few days ! more. They are going immediately.", i She was looking at Mrs. Herrick all 1 the while she was telling her wretch-'I ed lie, and now she even managed to smile at her. "I thought how lovely ! It would be If you could go there with me. 1 should like so very much to be ] In it first with you, to have you go over it with me and tell me how to j take car© of it, as it's always been 1 done. I should hate to do it any dis respect." ; 1 Her hostess smiled with ready an swer. "Of course I will go down. I should be glad, but It must be in a day or two. Indeed, perhaps It would; be better for you to have your people! first, and I can come down, say Mon day afternoon or Tuesday." Flora faced this unexpected turn of the matter a little blankly. "Ah, but the trouble is I can't go down alone *. __ __ . , , I " ™ MrB ; Herr,ok8 turn to lookl baak ' J?"*. Mrs .' nritt0 , n? " , ! ; Mrs. Britton Isn t going with me;] s e cant j * ,0e ' Mr8, Herrick with a long,! ! soft scrutiny seemed to be taking in more than Flora's mere words repre sented. "And you wouldn't put It off until she can?" "I couldn't put it off a moment," Flora ended with a little breathless; laugh. "I do so wish you would come down with me this morning, for I must go, and you see I can't go alone." Mrs. Herrick, sitting there, com posed, in her cool, flowing, white and violet gown with the red flowers in her lap, still looked at Flora inquir ingly. "But aren't there some wom en In your party old enough to make It possible and young enough to take| pleasure In It?" Flora shook her head. "Oh, no," she Bald. Her house of cards was tot-i tering. She could not keep up hefl brave smiling. She knew her distress must be plain. Indeed, as she looked| at Mrs. Herrick she saw the effect of it. Her heart sank. If only she had! told the truth—even so much of it as 1 to say there was something she couldi not tell. What she had said was un-l worthy not only of herself but of thei end she was so desperately holding j j 1 j i I . . ' , 7. • -------"j out for. Now in the lucid gaze conJ fronting her she knew all her inten* tlons were taking on a dubious color« ! stained false, like her words, underi the dark cloud of her own misrepre- I sentation. Yet they were not false, ! she knew. Her motives, the end she, was struggling for, were as austere as) [ truth itself. She could not give un without one bold stroke to clear them] of this accusation. "Do you think there's anything queer about it?" she faltered. "Queer?" To Flora's ears that sounded the coldest word she had evofl heard. "I hardly think I understand what you mean." "I mean Is it that you think there's more in what I'm asking of you than I have said?" The two looked at each other and before that flat question Mrs. Herrick drew back a little in lier chair. "I have no right to think about it at all," she said. "Well, there Is," Flora insisted. "There's a great deal more. I am sor ry. I should have told you, but I was afraid. I don't know why I was afraid of you, except that in this matter I've grown afraid of every one. It's true that there may be people going down —at least, a person. But It isn't, as I let you think it, a house party at all. It's for something, something that I can't do any other way—something," she had a sudden flash of insight, "that, if I could tell you, you would believe in, too." Mrs. Herrick's look had faded to a mere concentrated attention. "You mean that there is something you wish to do for whoever is going down?" "Oh, something I must do," Flora insisted. Mrs. Herrick considered a moment "Why can't he do it for himself?" she threw out suddenly. It made Flora start, hut she met it gallantly. "Because he won't. I shall j have to make him." "You!" F"or a moment Flora knew .. . . . , -, ! that she was preposterous In Mrs. ____________ »so» „».o-o* Herrick's eyes—and then that she was pathetic. Her companion was looking at her with a sad sort of humor. "My dear, are you sure that that Is your re sponsibility?" Ffiora's answering smile was faint. "It seems as strange to me as It seems absurd to you, but I think I have done something already.' I« uuu " "Are you sure, or has he only let you think so? We have all at some time longed, or even thought it was our duty, to adjust something when it would have been safer to have kept hands off," Mrs. Herrick went on our gently. "Oh, safer," Hora breathed. "Oh, yes; indeed, I know. But lf something had been put into your hands without youi choice; If all the life of some ono that you oared about depended on you, would yon thick of being safer' Flora, leaning forward, chin in hand, with shining eyes, seemed fairly to impart a reflection of her own pas sionate concentration to the woman before her. Mrs. Herrick, so calm in her re poseful attitude, cairn as the old por trait on the wall behind her, none the less began to show a curious sparkle ! 1 j ; ! ! i 1 ! ] j 1 „ lcw gjonatT repudiation, 1 or txett :nent in her face. "If 1 were sure that person's life did depend on me," she measured out her words de liberately. "But that so seldom hap pens, and it Is so hard to tell.' "But if you were sure, sure, sure!" Flora rang it out certainly. Mrs. Herrick in her turn leaned for ward. "Ah, even then it would de pend on him. And do you think you can make a man do otherwise than his nature?" "You think I should fall?" Flora took it up fearlessly. "Well, ft I do, at least I shall have done my best. I shall have to have done my best or I can never forgive myself." "I see," Mrs. Herrick sighed. "But It sounds to me a risk too great for any reward that could come of its success." She thought. "If you could tell- me more." Then, as Flora only looked at her wistfully and silently: "Isn't there some one you can confide in? Not Mrs. Britton?" "Clara? Oh, no; never!" Flora Startled Mrs. Herrick with the pas "But could not Mr. Cressy—" and with that broken sentence several things that Mrs. Herrick had been keeping back looked out of her face. Flora answered with a stare of mis ery. "I know what you must be think ing—what you can not help thinking," she said, "that the whole thing is un heard of—outrageous—especially fora girl so soon to—to be—" She caught her breath with a sob, for the words HCL UltrcLlll W1 LU «* ÖUU, iv/i nu * uo she could not speak. "But there Is ; nothing In this disloyal to my engage ment, even though I cannot speak of It to Harry Cressy; and nothing I ! hope (- 0 ga i n f or myself by doing what j anl trying to do . lf i BUC ceed it will only mean I shall never see him—the other one—again." Mrs. Herrick rose. In her turn be seeching. "Oh, I can't help you go Into It! It Is too dubious. My dear, I know so much better than you what the end may mean." "I know what the end may mean, and I can't keep out of it." "But I cannot go with you." There was a stern note in Mrs. Herrick's voice. Flora looked around the room, the sunny windows, the still shadows, the tall, monotonous clock, as if this were the last glimpse of peace and protec tion she would ever have. She rose and put out her hand. "I'm afraid I didn't quite realize how much I was asking of you. You j have been very good even to listen to j me. It's right. 1 suppose, that 1 should 1 go alene." j Mrs. Herrick looked at her in dis may. "But that is impossible!" Then, as Flora turned a ay, she kept her i hand. "Think, think." she urged, "how I you will be misunderstood." Oh, T shall have to bear that—from -on, i snail nave to near i the le who don t know ." "Yes. and even from the one for ! whom you are spending yourself!" Flora gave her head a quick shake. I ««e "understands,''"she said.' ! [ "My dear, he is not worth it." Flora turned on her with anger. "You don't know what he is worth to me!" Mrs. Herrick looked steadily at this unanswerable argummt. Her hold on Flora's hand relaxed, but she did not release it. Her brows drew together. "You are quite sure you must go?" Flora nodded. She was speechless. "Did Mrs Britton know you were coming to me?" "No. She doesn't even know that I am going out of town. She must not." Flora protested. "Indeed she must. You must not place yourself in such a false position. Wr ' te h * r ? nd her you are eoing to San Mateo with me. " 0 %, if you would!" Tears sprang to Flora's eyes. "But will you, even If I can't tell you anything?" "I shall not ask you anything. Now write her immediately. You can do it kere wki,e 1 am getting ready. She had take authoritative command of the details of their expedition, and Flora willingly obeyed her. She was still trembling from the stress of their interview, and she blinked back tears before she was able to see what she was writing. It had all been brought about more quickly and completely than she had hoped, but it was in her mind all the while she indited her message to Clara, that Kerr, for whom it had been accomplished, was not yet in formed of the existence of the scheme, or the part of guest he was to play. Yet she was sure that if she asked he would be promptly there. She wrote to him briefly: At San Mateo, at the Herricks'. I want j ^there to-night. I have made up my mind. As she was sealing it she started at ! a step approaching in the hall. She " , ' ... . .. . . _____. „ had wanted to conceal that betraying letter before Mrs. Herrick came back. She glanced quickly behind her, and saw standing between the half-open folding doors, the slim figure of a girl —slimmer, younger even than the one who had passed her at the gate—but like her, with the same large eyes, the same small indeterminate chin. Just at the chin the likeness to Mrs. "J .... ... .. ? Iei T ,ck fa »ed with the strength of her last generaUon-but the per : „,. . y .? . .. n * "«gering. ^,th the sixth. sense of y ° uth tb ? y / eC ? gn '*! d of something strange and thrilling. Another instant and Mrs. Herrick's presence dawned behind her daugh ter—and her voice—''W hy, child, what „ _____ Aninn. _n nil V« AS* nQttnS are you doing there?"—and her hands seemed apprehensive In their haste to hurry the child away, as if, truly, In thi* drawing-room, for the first time, something was dang rous. CHAPTER XXI. The House cf Q'fiet. d ' v which hnd diw-<>d so sill; r , ;-'p!»yiy v.i« '• aliening *o some n „ Hi... • '.iness h,, -'oniwe ■ ! I ! brightening, gusty, when they stepped out of the train upon the platform of the San Mateo station. Clouds were piling gray and castle-like from the east up toward the zenith, and dark fragments kept tearing off the edges and spinning away across the sky. But between them the bright face of the sun flashed out with double splendor, and the thinned atmosphere made the sky seem high and far, and all form beneath it clarified and Intense. There upon the narrow platform Mrs. Herrick hesitated a moment, looking at Flora. "What train do you want to meet?" she asked. Flora stood perplexed. "I hardly know. You see I can't tell how soon my letter would reach—would be re ceived." "Then we would better meet them all," the elder woman decided. They drove away into the face of the wet, fresh wind and flying drops of rain. Flora, leaning back In the carriage, looked out through the win dow with quiet eyes. The spirited movement of the sky, the racing of its shadows on the grass, the rolling foliage of the trees, seen tempestuous against flying cloud, were alike to her consoling and inspiring. She had never felt so free as now, driving through the fitful weather, nor so safe as with this companion who was sit ting silent by her side. She was driv ing away from all her complications. Already she was looking toward the house which she had never seen as her own kindly castle; and the gener ous opening of Its gate—old granite crowned with rose of sharon —did not disappoint her. The house was hid den in the swelling trees, but the drive winding beneath them gave glimpses through of lawns, of roses wreathing scarletly the old gray foun tain basin, of magnolia and acacia, doubly delicate and white and fra gile beneath the thunderous sky. The house, when finally it loomed upon them, with its Irregular roofs topped by curious square turrets, with Its deep upper and lower ver andas, looked out upon hy a multiude of long French windows, seemed too large, too strangely imposing for a structure of wood. But whatever of original ugliness had been there was hidden now under a splendid tapestry of vines, and Flora, looking up at the rose and honeysuckle that panoplied its front, felt her throat swell for sheer delight. For a moment after they had left the carriage they stood together in the porte-cochere, looking around them. Then half wistfully, half humorously, Mrs. Herrick turned to Flora. "I do hope you won't want to buy it!" "Oh, I'm afraid I shall," Flora mur mured, "that Is, if—" She left her sen tence hanging, as one who would have said "if I come out of this alive," and Mrs. Herrick, with a quick start of protection, laid her hand on Flora's arm. (To be continued.) SYNOPSI3. CHAPTER I.—At a private view of the^ ■ 'liai worth personal estate, to be sold at | » ■ Iri. the Chatworth ring mysteriously] asappoars. Harry Cressy, who was pres-1 nr with others of the society circle, de scribes the ring to his fiancee. Flora Gil- j ey. and her chaperon. Mrs. Clara Brit on. as being like a heathen god. with a! iieautiful sapphire set in the head. CHAPTER TI.— Flora discovers an un »amlliar mood in Harry, especially when ne discusses the Chatworth ring. Sha if lends "ladies' night" at the club and meets Mr. Kerr, an Englishman. It comes out that the missing ring has been mown as the Crew Idol. Its mysterious lisappearance recalls the exploits of Far rell Wand, an English thief. CHAPTER III.—Flora has a fancy that ' Harry and Kerr are somehow concerned In the mystery. CHAPTER IV.— Flora questions Kerr regarding the peculiar look exchanged between himself and Harry whan they met. Kerr says he has met Harry be töre, but cannot place him. CHAPTER V.—$20,000 reward la offered for tlie return of the Crew Idol. Harry admits to Flora that he dislikea Kerr. They make an appointment to select an engagement ring. CHAPTER VI.—Harry takes her to a! Chinese goldsmith's. Flora Is startled at discovering 'ho Chinaman has bluo eyes.) She selects in exquisite sapphire set tn. a hoop of brass. Harry urges her not tot wiur it until it is reset. I CHAPTER VII.—The possession of the ring seems to cast a spell over Flora. 8he becomes uneasy and apprehensive. CHAPTER VIII.—Flora meets Kerr at a box party and is startled by the effect on him when he gets a glimpse o 1 the sapphire. CHAPTER IX.—Kerr's interest In the ■tone, Harry's peculiar actions and the probability of her stone being part of the Crew Idol cause Flora much anxiety. CHAPTER X.— Flora expresses a de-' ! sire to rent the Herrick San Mateo place. I Unseen, Flora discovers Clara ransacking, ! her dressing room. CHAPTER XI.— Kerr's interest in the 1 stone contirms Flora's suspicion that it belongs to the Crew Idol. She refuses to give or sell It to him. She suspects aim of being the thief. CHAPTER XII.—Flora's interest in' Kerr increases. The necessity of avoid ing him takes possession of her. She de cides the only way out of her danger is io return the ring to Harry. CHAPTER XIII.—Harry tells Flora he dislikes Kerr and objects to her seeing nm. He tells her to keep the ring for a lay or two. CHAPTER XIV.—Flora decides that tara has got on the scent of something md that Harry has a special interest in lie ring. Ella Buller tells Flora that Jlara is setting her cap for her father, ludge Buller. 'll AFTER XV.—The thought comes tot I ra that Hurry suspects Kerr and iw ui.ng to mui.e sort of lue reward he re unmasking the iiaef. She writes to err. urging him to go. CHAPTER XVI.—Clara seems to be In al about someth b iota's uneasiness ... perplexity inm-se. I HAPTER XVII.—li'-rr declares his ir for Flora, and sue confesses that . ums him, but hat her honor pro* - lier going with him. PT '.K X V! U.—Returning home lnj . iora is fini • wed by a Chinaman. PT EH XIX lurry admits to t lie ..e ring was stolen, s to ■ i. to him, and whilo . ' by force he isl 1 blue-eyed China» ■■ window.