"We must settle the thing before we go to Stabler's tonight, Louis. Suppose you meet me in the library after you are dressed for dinner."
"I hate to use Stabler—"
"You are not using him. You are simply bringing two friends together for their mutual benefit."
"For your benefit, Neale."
"Stabler will get something out of it. And anyhow why should you worry?"
"Because I am in your power."
"Nonsense!" Winslow's hand came down on his shoulder. "What have I done that you should think that, Louis?"
"If it wasn't for Hildegarde, I'd cut the whole thing. She couldn't have come to me at a more inopportune moment. But now that she is here, I shall keep her, and if I keep her I've got to have more money."
Thus did Carew quiet his conscience. He was, he argued, asking all this for his daughter. He did not face the fact that if his daughter had not been there, he might have asked it for himself.
It was Hildegarde who came into the library before the others. When she entered, there was no light in the room but that which shone from the crystal cat. It seemed an eerie thing to see the cat in her cold, white beauty, curled up in her eternal sleep. The fire on the hearth had died down to pale ashes.
Hildegarde went to the window to draw the curtain. A little moon sailed in a sky that was clear after the snows. She sat on the window-seat and looked out at the moon, and because it was cold she drew the velvet curtain about her.
