ing-room. Mr. Bowers, she knew, regarded a dinner simply as a more or less elaborate and delightful prelude to the cigars, but Ellery was ill at ease, and she felt that if left alone with the other men his success as an insulator would not be complete.
The end of the story was greeted with laughter, through which Welles's voice was heard asking,
"Is he the originator of the Melvin Commutator?"
Mr. Bowers's brows met over a flashing glance, and the mellow social cadence of his voice was reduced to the level tone of the counting-room. "You seem remarkably familiar with electrical devices, sir," he said. "I hold the patents of the Melvin Commutator, but it has never been put upon the market."
"By the way, Welles," hastily broke in the host, "I saw in the paper the other day that one John Stilwell had taken out a patent on something or other. I wonder if that's the Stilwell we know?"
As the Chicagoan turned to reply, Louise knew that Mr. Bowers bent upon her a suspicious glance. The time for concealment was obviously past. Tell-tale claws had pierced the silken pouch in which she had hidden them, and she perceived that the cat would out, and quickly, too. Better to untie the string herself than to have the bag torn open.
"Welles?" Mr. Bowers's tone was low but tense. "What Welles?"
"Lancaster Welles, of Chicago, manager for George H. Boltwood and Company." The angle of Mrs. Jordan's chin bespoke a lively skirmish for the attacking party; her color was brilliant, and she looked directly into the blazing eyes of her elderly guest. She had forced the initiative upon him; a truce was possible, but if he insisted upon action, he should have it. At the moment he seemed not to perceive the apparent deliberation of the challenge. Quick temper impelled him to speech, although his utterance was impressively slow.
"I must believe this deliberate?"
"Certainly." Her mind quivered under the strain. Evidently hope for the future was futile; all her endeavor must be to prevent an immediate scene, and as far as possible to save her husband from the wrath to come by placing the responsibility for this disastrous dinner where it belonged—on her own shoulders—without compromising the position of her other guests. She plunged into the inversions and transpositions required to reconcile her position to the situation, with little anticipation of the point to which that devious path would ultimately lead her. Two things alone were clear: Ellery must be absolved of the initial intention, and Welles's welcome must not be discounted. "Certainly," she repeated, gaining time. "The plan to invite Mr. and Mrs. Welles to meet you, however, was entirely mine. Even my husband knew nothing about it until my arrangements were all made. I am entirely aware that I have done a daring thing, but when it became necessary for us to consider the possibility of Mr. Jordan's leaving your company and accepting a position with the Boltwood people, I did feel very strongly, Mr. Bowers, that you should be given an opportunity to meet Mr. Welles and to decide whether or not you would consider certain proposals which would make such a change unnecessary." She paused, appalled at the sheer bravado of her defence, but as he simply stared at her in silence, the necessities of the situation swept her on. "Mr. Welles, as you have said, is a brilliant man, and we feel that he will achieve large success in business, and that an alliance with him cannot fail to be profitable. If the fact that he was once employed by George Boltwood—"
"Madam! You are venturing very near that ground where angels fear to tread." His voice shook. "George Boltwood was—"
"Was once your dearest friend, and is now dead," she swiftly supplied, in terror lest the conversation directed toward the other side of the table should languish. "And it is inconceivable to suppose that you will permit a feeling which has deprived you for years of the companionship of the only close friend you ever had, and that has, through that bitterness, prevented the proper development of your business along certain lines—"Her auditor gasped slightly, and she leaned toward him, flushed, bright-eyed, desperately trying to shock him into a quiescence that should outlast his stay under her roof. u Mr. Bowers, it is inconceiv-
