i.

"the present becomes the future.

yes! but the present does not again become the past;

time goes forward forever--we cannot return on his footsteps,

for the laws of the universe are unalterable, unchangeable and fixed.

ii.

"yet when i see you before me,

i am inclined to doubt all that has existed since the shaping of

the earth from chaos.

for you appear as you did in those far-distant days,

when love and sin made up the sum of our lives.

iii.

"phantom!

vanish again into the darkness from whence my memory hath

called thee!

as a god i have re-created thee--as a god i condemn thee to

disappear.

i live the present, the future--but the past i will not renew.

lest such phantoms as you should turn the past into the present."

in a private sitting-room of the langham hotel sat mr. silas p. oates, of new york city, millionaire, who had come to england with his wife and daughter to spend his money, secure a titled husband for his only child, and look round generally.

he had made his money in a somewhat unexpected way by sundry dealings in stocks and shares, besides which he had bought a clever invention cheaply of the inventor--a poor man--and by dint of dexterous advertising and persistent pushing had boomed it into a big success. a far-seeing man was mr. oates, none too scrupulous, who regarded his fellow-men as so many sheep to be shorn of their rich fleece; but he always kept to the letter if not the spirit of the law, and therefore regarded himself as a keen business man, who had made his enormous fortune honestly. all his little knavish tricks, his taking advantage of his fellow-creatures when they were in difficulties, and his unscrupulous, unblushing lying, he designated under the collective name of business; and however scandalous his dealings might appear to god, they certainly appeared legitimate to his brother business men, who mostly acted the same way.

therefore silas was called "a sharp business man." all his twistings and turnings and chicanery and sailing close to the wind went to pile up the dollars; and however he might have ruined less clever men than himself, however he imposed, gulled, and swindled the public, he was generally admitted in the land of freedom to be a 'cute man, who was a worthy representative of the great god mammon. charity, according to the bible, covers a multitude of sins, but money occupies a much higher place nowadays in the covering process, and all the doubtful ways by which he had acquired his fortune disappeared in the eyes of the condoning world under the golden cover of the fortune itself.

this worthy product of the nineteenth century was a short, thin, active little man, with a parchment-coloured skin, dark hair, moustache, beard, eyebrows, and eyes, and a quick, delicate restlessness about him, like a bright-eyed bird. he was dressed neatly in a quiet gray suit, wore no jewellery, not even a watch-chain, and was always on the alert to see something to his advantage. outwardly, he was a quiet, respectable, decent little fellow, who, as the saying goes, would not harm a fly; inwardly, he was an astute blackguard, who called his evil doing "business," who always kept well within the law, and had dethroned the deity in favour of himself. his past was bad and tricky, so much so that it would hardly bear looking into by a man with a conscience; but even though mr. oates had no conscience, he did not indulge much in retrospection: not that he dreaded remorse, but simply looked upon such dreaming as a waste of time.

at present he was perfectly happy. he had made a lot of money, he had a pretty wife for whom he cared nothing, a charming daughter for whom he cared a great deal, and was now going to show the old world what the new world could do in the way of making a splash. it was a very enviable frame of mind to be in, and one quite beyond the reach of an honest man, who would have been disturbed at the memory of how he had made his money. but silas only thought how pleasant it was he had made so much money, for the making of which he had to thank no one--not even god, who, in his inexplicable mercy permitted this gilded worm to reap the golden reward of a life of legitimate legalised rascality.

mr. oates, therefore, was happy, and thought no one could upset that happiness in any way; but he found out his mistake when the waiter brought in a card inscribed, "mrs. belswin."

"well, sir," drawled silas, looking doubtfully at the card, "this lady wants to look me up?"

"yes, sir."

"mrs. belswin!" soliloquised the american in deep thought. "i can't fix her nohow. ask the lady to step this way."

"yes, sir."

the alert, active waiter disappeared, and mr. oates pondered. he did not know the name; he had only arrived in england the previous day, and was unacquainted with any one. what then did this strange lady want with him? luckily, mrs. hatty k. oates had gone out shopping with her daughter, else the situation might have been awkward for silas, whose domestic hearthstone was not quite free from connubial rows caused by jealousy. his wife, however, was away, and would not be home for the next few hours, so mr. oates, feeling rather curious as to the business of his fair visitor, was by no means sorry that he had a chance of passing his afternoon in feminine society.

his visitor entered the room heralded by the waiter; then the latter retired, closing the door carefully after him, leaving the pair alone. the lady was dressed in black, and wore a heavy crape veil, which suggested mourning to the astute silas; and after he had gathered as much as he was able from a keen glance at this draped veiled figure, he politely placed a chair for her.

"you wish to see me, madam?" he asked, resuming his own seat.

"i do, for a few minutes. i am an old friend of yours."

mrs. belswin's voice was muffled by the veil, and moreover silas had not heard it for nearly twenty years, so he did not recognise his visitor in the least, and was considerably puzzled by the concluding part of her speech.

"an old friend!" he said doubtfully, smoothing his chin. "from the states?"

"yes; down 'frisco way."

"oh!"

mr. oates started. he had many acquaintances down 'frisco way, but they could hardly be called friends, as they very much disapproved of his method of doing business.

"i've got an eye for faces," said silas, in a jaunty manner, "so if you put up that veil i've no doubt i can fix you."

"i'm afraid i shall startle you."

"i'm not easily startled, madam. my nerves are in good working order."

"are they? then i'll put them to the test."

mrs. belswin suddenly threw back her veil and bent forward so that her face was in the strong light, whereupon silas gave a whoop like a wild indian, bounded from his chair and gasped.

"i'm afraid you over-estimate the working order of your nerves, silas," said mrs. belswin, scoffingly; and then leaning back in her chair, waited for mr. oates to make the next move in the game.

"great scott! it's mrs. pethram. i thought you were dead!"

"and wished it too, i've no doubt," said mrs. belswin, bitterly. "well, are you not glad to see me?"

"no!" replied silas, truthfully; "i'm uncommon sorry."

"ah! you've learned to speak the truth since i saw you last," observed the lady, raising her eyebrows, "otherwise you're not much changed. the same ugly little monkey with whom i ran away from new zealand. i've often wondered why i did run away with you," pursued mrs. belswin with charming candour, "and now i see you again i wonder more than ever."

silas grinned in an uneasy manner. he would have preferred her to be less cool, to pay more deference to his position, but she seemed as candid as ever, and he almost expected to have something damaging flung at his head, as had been her custom in the old days. it was a very disagreeable position, so silas rose to the occasion, and immediately set to work to emulate her coolness, and find out how he could circumvent this unwelcome visitor from the past.

"i see you're still in the vinegar line," he said easily, resuming his seat. "i guess you did turn me over for a bit. it takes a pretty stiff dose to do that, but this time you've raised cain proper."

they were delightfully amiable to one another, the more so as a feeling of distrust pervaded the whole conversation; but as mrs. belswin wanted to waste no time, in case the wife of her former lover should turn up, she opened fire at once--

"i dare say you're surprised to see me."

"it's no good beating round the bush. i'm surprised and sorry."

"you'll be sorrier before i've done with you."

"hello! what are y' going to show your teeth about?"

"nothing, if you'll do what i ask."

"see here, mrs. pethram," said silas, leaning forward with his shrewd, sharp, foxy face, "it's no good your tryin' to play low on me. i've cut my eye teeth, i can tell you. you think you've got the whip hand of me. that's as i take it. well, you can drop that dodge. i ran off with you to 'frisco 'cause i was a born fool. i did love you, only you were more like a redskin than a civilised woman. we agreed to part company twenty years ago, and i've kept my part of the contract. i've gone right along in the money line, and this time i've come home on the winner. i'm married and straight now, and i don't want no one to put things wrong between my wife and me. as you're an old friend i'll act square by you if it's money, but if it's blackmail your looking you'd better believe it."

mrs. belswin was in all things a headstrong, impulsive woman, without any craft or power to disguise her feelings. she had come to oates with the fullest intention of threatening to tell his wife their former relations if he refused to give her money; but here was her adversary calmly placing the whole of her nefarious scheme before her, and she felt completely nonplussed. oates, on the other hand, was so accustomed to trickery that mrs. belswin was a mere child in his hands, and the course he was now adopting was certainly the only means by which he could hope to checkmate her.

"well, madam!" said silas, seeing his plain speaking had taken mrs. belswin aback, "what do you say?"

mrs. belswin acted like a fool, lost her temper and stormed.

"you despicable little wretch," she said, starting to her feet, with her eyes blazing with anger, "how dare you speak to me like this? was it not for your sake that i lost my husband, my good name, my position in the world? and yet you dare to taunt me with it. you are now rich, married, and respectable. i, on the other hand, am poor--yes, poor, otherwise my life for these last twenty years has been above reproach. oh, you may laugh! you judge me by yourself, but i tell you since i left you i have led a decent life. the reason i refuse to tell you. now hear what i have to say. i would not have come to you unless it was a case of dire necessity, i hate you too much to have ever desired to set eyes on you again, but i was compelled to come, because i want money. give me a cheque for £500 and i won't trouble you again. refuse, and i'll tell your wife all."

"will you, indeed?" sneered silas, mockingly. "don't try the black-mailing game, for you won't bounce a cent out of me. that's so, mrs. pethram. my wife knows all about you. i told her all when i was married."

"that's a lie," said mrs. belswin, fiercely. "i don't believe it."

"i reckon it's true, though."

"i won't take your word for it, so i'll ask your wife."

"she'll be here at three-forty. you can wait."

it was all bravado on the part of oates, as he was in deadly fear lest his wife should come in and learn all. true this discreditable connection had taken place before his marriage: but mrs. oates would not take that fact into consideration, and would make things very unpleasant for him. with all his cleverness and craft, silas was a coward at heart; so as mrs. belswin sat there, evidently determined to await the arrival of his wife, he skirmished round, in order to find out some weak spot in her armour by which he could beat her. had he betrayed fear, mrs. belswin would have at once perceived that she had the advantage; but he did nothing but sit smiling before her, and all she could do in her mad rage was to tell all to mrs. oates, thereby cutting her own throat, and benefiting nothing by revelation.

"say," queried mr. oates, airily, "why don't you look up pethram?"

"he is dead.'

"is that so?" said oates, somewhat startled. "died in new zealand, i guess?"

"no, he didn't. he died in england."

"what did you kill him for?"

it was simply an idle, malicious question, as silas never for a moment dreamed that the husband and wife had met, or that there had been anything strange about the husband's death. foolish mrs. belswin, never thinking, flashed out at once, on the impulse of the moment, quite forgetting that she was putting a sword into her enemy's hand.

"i didn't kill him. how dare you say so? no one knows who murdered him."

silas jumped up from his seat with an exclamation of surprise, as his apparently idle question had evidently drawn forth something important.

"oh, he was murdered, then?"

"didn't you know," said mrs. belswin, haughtily, "when you spoke to me like that?"

"i know nothing," returned silas, coolly. "i only spoke because i know if you had met pethram in one of your fiendish tempers you would have put a knife in him."

mrs. belswin saw that she had raised a suspicion in the mind of silas, so was now careful as to what she said.

"you're talking at random. pethram is dead, and some one shot him; i don't know who. you can see all about it in the papers."

silas made no answer, as he was thinking. owing to mrs. belswin's unsuspicious nature he had learned a very important fact, which might possibly lead to his circumventing her demands for money. so he made up his mind at once how to act, and acted.

"see here," he said, good-humouredly, pulling out his cheque-book; "i'll do what i can for you. tell my wife or not, if you like; but now, if five hundred dollars are of any use, i'll give you that lot straight off."

"five hundred dollars," said mrs. belswin, coolly--"one hundred pounds. well, that will do in the meantime; but i'm to have the rest next week, or i'll make things hot for you, silas."

the american had his own opinion on the subject, but, with his habitual craft, said nothing. filling up the cheque, he gave it to mrs. belswin, who took it without a word of thanks, and put it in her purse.

"i've made it payable to mrs. belswin," said oates. "that's your last name, i guess?"

"it has been my name ever since i left you in 'frisco," retorted mrs. belswin, fiercely. "you need not insinuate that i have been leading a bad life. i've no doubt my past would bear more looking into than yours."

"you've the same old style, i see," said silas, insolently, "all gunpowder and dynamite. well, i guess that now you've got what you came for you'll get."

"as you elegantly phrase it, i'll get," rejoined the lady, letting down her veil. "but let me hear from you next week about the rest of the money, or i'll come and interview your wife."

"oh, i'll write you straight," answered silas, with a peculiar smile, as he accompanied her to the door. "good-bye, mrs. pethram--beg pardon, mrs. belswin."

"neither correct, sir," said his visitor, jeeringly. "my lady pethram."

silas closed the door after her, with a smile which faded from his face when he found himself alone.

"lady pethram!" he echoed thoughtfully "i reckon then that pethram got his handle. well, now i'd better look after that murder case, and then i'll fix that she-devil right along the line."

having thus made up his mind, he sent for a file of the daily telegraph of the previous month, and went steadily to work to read up the thornstream case, which he had no difficulty in finding. he also discovered the address of a private inquiry office, and at once wrote a letter instructing them to send him a detective. this business being concluded, he lighted a cigar, rubbed his dry, lean hands together and chuckled.

"two can always play at a game, my lady," he muttered; "but this time i guess you'll stand out."