Meanwhile the brilliant society season was drawing to a close. Few smart functions remained, but there would be no more dashing affair than the forthcoming ball at Lytton Avenue. The supper was coming from Paris, the decorations were unique, the flowers were to cost upwards of a thousand pounds. The society papers had more or less veracious paragraphs, a score of lady journalists were making copy of the affair.

Thus Maitrank chuckled over his invitation. He was going to take his vengeance for the trick played on him in his own good time. He had purposely kept out of the way of the Countess. He set the cables in motion, and after a due response or two he was closeted with the head of, a smart firm of lawyers in Ely Place.

"You are quite sure of my position?" he croaked.

"Quite, sir," the lawyer responded. "According to the papers drawn up at the time, you can take possession and demand your money at any moment. You are in the same position as a landlord distraining for rent. If you want us to act----"

"I do," Maitrank snapped. "I wish you to act at eleven o\'clock tomorrow night. No need to stare at me like that, sir. I know what I am doing. And I am prepared to pay you handsomely for your services."

The lawyer bowed his strange client out. He had only to obey instructions. He went back to his desk pondering on the sensation that society was going to get shortly. Maitrank went straight away to Lawrence.

"I have done what you asked," he said curtly. "You are a wonderful man, you novelist; see you at our dear friend the Countess\'s tomorrow. Good night."

By the time that Maitrank had bowed with humility over the hand of his hostess the following evening nearly all fashionable London had gathered in those spacious suites of rooms. The decorations were superb, unique; there was no better music to be obtained in Europe. Folk were talking with bated breath of the great chef who had come from Paris to superintend his supper.

It was the crowning glory of a wonderful woman\'s career. She stood smiling before her guests in a dress that had cost Worth a sleepless night. A duke was just congratulating her upon her good taste. A couple of gorgeous footmen were casting back the curtains of the supper room. Down below in the hall something like an altercation seemed to be going on.

"It\'s a man, my lady," a blushing footman stammered. "He declines to go away. I called in a policeman, and he showed him a paper, after which the police went, saying it seemed all right and legal or something like that. The fellow says he must see you."

Perhaps a creditor beyond all patience and in desperate need of money. Leona Lalage sailed out of the room into the hall, where two seedy-looking men awaited her.

"Well, what is it you want tonight?" she demanded, haughtily.

A long slip of paper was thrust into her hand. Her quick brain grasped the significance. Maitrand had struck, and struck hard. These men were in possession for nearly ￡100,000--vulgar bailiffs such as come and sell the goods of poor people who cannot pay their rent. Leona Lalage remembered now the conditions under which she had borrowed money from Maitrank. He had her in his power. It seemed a vile thing to do when she had put him off with the very jewels from about her neck. And she was powerless--she could not have these men turned into the street. Most of her guests would understand sooner or later. Tomorrow this would be public property. Once the tongue of rumour started the crash was bound to follow.

Leona Lalage looked round her helplessly for the first time in her life. Maitrank stood there grinning like a hideous mask enjoying her confusion. He had come to enjoy this where a more sensitive man would have stayed away. Revenge to him was nothing unless he could feast his eyes upon it.

"You scoundrel, you cur!" she hissed. "If I had a weapon in my hand, I would kill you and die happy. Why ............