their attitude—but they must not ignore instructions. Mr. Endor's contradiction, as I have already promised you, shall be given full publicity."
"Too late, I'm afraid, to be of the slightest use now," said Helen, bitterly.
"We'll hope not," said the Chief, with an oleaginous purr. "It's never too late to repair an indiscretion."
But Helen's temper showed a rising insurgency. "To my mind," she said, "the whole thing is indefensible. It's a blunder or worse, on the part of somebody."
Mr. Hartz did his best with soft words, but Helen was deeply angry. Clearly he was afraid of losing her and, rather than do so, he was ready to grovel. Several times, indeed, in the course of this painful interview, she was on the point of taking a definite, irrevocable step, but the consummate tact of the man with whom she was dealing was just able to stave off a final decision. And yet, in Helen's own mind, it was not this diplomacy which really turned the scale; it was, when all was said, a sense of deep loyalty to one from whom she had received much kindness that became the determining factor.
"I understand you've telegraphed for further news. As soon as you hear, please let me know how he is, unfortunate fellow!"
With that almost angelic valediction in her ears, Helen retired. But anger, impatience, bitterness were running riot. Her spirit was more than ever at war.
