“I don’t see quite what your game is, Vee, but I suppose you’ve got a game on somewhere. She pulled herself together and put her eye to the eye-piece. He had been the one to dress her in the finest silks and brocades, and here she was, displayed for the world to see in 248 drugstore makeup and the uniform of an old schoolteacher. He had scarcely completed his toilet, when he was startled by a noise at the door, and heard his own name pronounced in no friendly accents. "Not entirely," replied Jonathan, calmly; "though I shouldn't be ashamed of it if it were. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. For a moment none of them stirred; then slowly Enschede turned away. She killed every month, twelve a year, and was for all intents and purposes a serial killer of middle aged men. ” The lights sank, the prelude to the third act was beginning, the music rose and fell in crowded intimations of lovers separated—lovers separated with scars and memories between them, and the curtain went reefing up to display Tristan lying wounded on his couch and the shepherd crouching with his pipe. Applying his ear to the keyhole, Jack listened, but could detect no sound. "My child!" he groaned faintly. But I can't submit to hear the wellearned reputation of my friend termed an 'infamous notoriety.
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