Ruggles’ face, which had hardened, relaxed. 

 “I have seen that lady,” he exclaimed with satisfaction; “I have seen her several times.” 

 Galorey sank back into his chair and neither man spoke for a few seconds. Turning it all over in his slow mind, Ruggles remembered Dan’s absorption in the last few days. “So there are three women in the nest,” he concluded thoughtfully, and Gordon Galorey repeated: 

 “No, not three. What do you mean?” 

 “Your wife”—Ruggles held up one finger and Galorey interrupted him to murmur: 

 “I’ll take care of Edith.” 

 “The Duchess of Breakwater you think won’t talk of money?” 67 

67

 “No, don’t count on it. She is aiming at ten million pounds.” 

 Ruggles was holding up the second finger. 

 “Well, I guess Dan has gone out to take care of her to-day.” 

 Dan and Ruggles had seen Mandalay from a box, from the pit and from the stalls. On the table lay a book of the opera. While talking with Galorey, Ruggles had unconsciously arranged the checks on top of the libretto of Mandalay. 

 “I’ll take care of Miss Lane,” Ruggles said at length. 

 His lordship echoed, “Miss Lane?” and looked up in surprise. “What Miss Lane, for God’s sake?” 

 “Miss Letty Lane at the Gaiety,” Ruggles answered. 

 “Why, she isn’t in the question, my dear man.” 

 “You put her there just now yourself.” 

 “Bosh!” Galorey exclaimed impatiently, “I 68 spoke of her as being the limit, the last thing on the line.” 

68

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