the flower beds with deft, jerky movements of his strong wrists, whistling as he worked. He saw her, stopped long enough to smile a respectful good morning and to tip his dirtstained slouch hat. Then back to work and whistling. Carmelita lingered, watching him idly, loath to go back into the house where she felt the final scene in her drama of disgrace was to be played.
She was in the garden when the familiar limousine of Mrs. Peabody swung up the drive and stopped in front of the door.
Carmelita, turning white in an instant, did not hesitate. Rushing up the shrub-lined path she hurried into the kitchen and caught her maid just as the latter was preparing to answer the bell.
"Tell them I am not here but will return directly," Carmelita gasped. "Be sure they wait."
Rao-Singh would have to lend her the money now whatever the price or the consequences. Or she would never come back to this house. She would—
Unobserved by the callers to whom the maid was now conveying her mistress' words and showing two chairs upon the piazza, Carmelita hurried over the broad lawns that stretched between her own property and that of Rao-Singh. Luckily no one observed her progress and in
