The Secret Power

"What is that?" she asked.

"That? Oh, nothing! An invention of mine--just to look pretty and cool in warm weather! It reminds me of women's caprices and fancies--always on the jump! Yes!--don't frown, Manella!--that is so! Now--let me see what Mr. Sam Gwent has to say that he didn't say before---" and seating himself, he opened the letter and began to read.

Manella watched him from under the shadow of her long-fringed eyelids--her heart beat quickly and uncomfortably. She was fearful lest Gwent should have broken faith with her after all, and have written of her and her vain passion, to the man who already knew of it only too well. She waited patiently for the "god of her idolatry" to look up. At last he did so. But he seemed to have forgotten her presence. His brows were knitted in a frown, and he spoke aloud, as to himself-"A syndicate! Old humbug! He knows perfectly well that the thing could not be run by a syndicate! It must be a State's own single possession--a State's special secret. If I were as bent on sheer destructiveness as he imagines me to be, I should waste no more time, but offer it to Germany.

Germany would take it at once--Germany would require no persuasion to use it!--Germany would make me a millionaire twice over for the monopoly of such a force!--that is, if I wanted to be a millionaire, which I don't. But Gwent's a fool--I must have scared him out of his wits, or he wouldn't write all this stuff about risks to my life, advising me to marry quickly and settle down! Good God! I?--Marry and settle down? What a tame ending to a life's adventure! Hello, Manella!"

His eyes lighted upon her as if he had only just seen her. He rose from his chair and went over to where she sat by the window.

"Patient girl!" he said, patting her dark head with his big sun-browned hand--"As good as gold and quieter than a mouse! Well! You may go now. I've read the letter and there's no answer. Nothing for me to write, or for you to post!" She lifted her brilliant eyes to his--what glorious eyes they were! He would not have been man had he not been conscious of their amorous fire. He patted her head again in quite a paternal way.

"Nothing for me to write or for you to post"--he repeated, abstractedly--"and how satisfactory that is!"

"Then you are pleased?" she said.