"Don't listen to Hambledon's rot," he said, "but that reminds me. I must be off."
Mannister stretched out a detaining hand.
"Don't hurry," he said. "Remember that your old friends too have claims. By-the-bye, what about Sophy de la Mere?"
Traske was uncomfortable, and showed it. Such questioning from any one else he would have resented at once.
"Oh, Sophy's all right," he declared. "Not likely to round upon an old pal."
Sophy herself appeared, radiant in white lace, a picture hat, and a feather boa. She, perhaps, more than any of them, had suffered from nerves when first she had seen Mannister enter the restaurant, but she had had time to get over it, and she was a woman. So she came up to him with outstretched hands and a brilliant smile. It was simpler to treat his absence as something quite ordinary, to ignore those things concerning which speech was difficult.
"Back again to Babylon, my friend," she said, lightly. "Welcome home! I am delighted to see you."
Mannister stood and smiled down upon her, his hand resting on the back of his chair.
"I see that your friends," he remarked, "have dispersed. Won't you sit down and have some coffee with us? It will be quite like old times."
"On one condition," she answered, "and that is that you all come round to my rooms afterwards. Dicky is going to South Africa to-morrow, and we are going to give him a send-off, music and bridge and a riotous time generally. You'll all come, won't you? If you say yes I'll sit down, and we can all go back together."
"I shall be charmed," Mannister answered. "I do not think that any of us could refuse such an invitation."
His glance rested as though by accident upon Traske, who was suddenly conscious of a feeling of apprehension for which he could not account.
"I am afraid," he said, rising, "that I shall have to be excused. I was just explaining to Mannister here——"
"You will not be excused," Mrs. De la Mere said quietly. "You are coming, Ben. I insist upon it."
There was a moment's silence. No one else intervened. They recognized that the disposal of Traske's evening had suddenly become a matter of some import.
"I am sorry," Traske began, but without any conviction in his tone, "but I really have an important engagement this evening. If to-morrow evening or——"
"No other evening will do," Mrs. De la Mere said. "I am thinking of leaving town myself almost directly, so this may very well be a farewell party in more senses than one. You must come, Ben."
Traske resumed his seat, but his face was troubled. Hambledon whispered in Mannister's ear.
"Extraordinary thing about Ben. He made up to a little girl somewhere in the suburbs just because she had a lot of money, and upon my word I believe it's coming off. Talks of chucking the city and town life, and going to live in the country."
"Is he honest, do you suppose?" Mannister asked.
Hambledon smiled—an unpleasant smile.
"Until he gets hold of the money. He's got round the girl somehow or other, I suppose. She's very pretty and very pious, and that's all we know about her. He's taken good care to keep her away from all of us? "
Mannister leaned back in his chair and smiled to himself thoughtfully. He glanced across at Traske, and the smile deepened, although there was little of mirth in it.
In the vestibule of the restaurant, Sophy de la Mere drew Mannister on one side.
"I want you to drive home with me," she said. "The others can follow in hansoms."
Mannister bowed.
"I shall be charmed, of course," he said, and followed her across the pavement into the little electric coupé. She raised her veil as they swung off, and he looked at her critically. She had certainly aged, and there was more powder upon her cheeks than she had used a year ago.
"Look here," she said, "I know very well that your coming back means no good to any of us. I watched you come and I watched the others' faces. They are scared out of their lives, but I don't suppose they have had the pluck to talk to you as I mean to. We served you a low-down miserable trick, a trick that no man is likely to forgive. We gambled upon your never being able to show yourself in England again, and you see we lost. Don't think I am going to cry off for my share. I know very well you're not the forgiving sort."
Mannister looked at her curiously.
"If one might venture to inquire——" he began.
"Don't interrupt me," she continued. "We have only a few minutes, and I want to make the most of them. You're back here to get level with all of us, and I have a sort of an idea that you'll do it. You can't collect our heads or reputations, or whatever you mean to strike at, into one, and destroy them at one blow. You'll have to take us separately. Have you any choice as to the order?"
Mannister began to understand. He thrust his hand into his breast coat pocket, and drew from a small pocket-book a folded strip of paper. He spread it open upon his knee, and moved a little so that the electric light at the back of the coupé fell upon it.
"You see here," he remarked, "a list of eight names. They are in order, not alphabetically, as you will observe. You see who heads the list."
"She peered forward.
"Benjamin Traske!" she exclaimed.
He nodded, and replaced the paper in his pocket.
"Are you not curious," he asked, "to see where yours comes?"
"Not I," she answered quickly. "When my turn comes I shall be ready. Listen. I am not offering to make a bargain with you. I want no mercy for what I did. If my name stands second upon that list, I am ready even now to tell you to do your worst. But of my own free will I offer you this." She touched with her slim forefinger the place where that paper had been. "I will help you with that first name."
He smiled.
"So you do not like the idea," he remarked, "of our friend Benjamin's marriage?"
"I do not," she answered. "To tell you the truth I do not mean that marriage to take place."
"You would prefer," he suggested softly, "that our young friend should find himself involved, perhaps——"
"Never mind that," she interrupted. "I have a scheme. I only ask you when the lime comes to play up to me. The girl he is engaged to is a little Puritan and a fool. I do not wish to see her miserable for life. When she understands what sort of a man Benjamin Traske really is, she will never look at him again."
Mannister nodded.
"I will be ready," he answered. "When do you suppose this opportunity will come?"
"To-night!" she whispered in his ear. "You will understand presently."
The coupé had drawn up before the block of flats in which she
