The Lion's Mouse

								

Trust King." Heron had appeared fully to appreciate this; and before
Roger left for New York had been almost oppressively cordial, begging in
vain that Roger would visit him and his wife, a famous beauty with
Spanish blood in her veins. He had written once, immediately after
Sands' departure, and had telegraphed congratulations on reading the
news of Roger's marriage. But the friendly reply had remained
unacknowledged. The wedding present of a gold tea service had been
accompanied by no letter, only a card with the names of "Mr. and Mrs.
John Heron." With Sands' thanks the correspondence ended.... This had
vexed Roger, who liked Heron and was not used to being slighted. The
only thing he could think of was Beverley's failure to enclose a note to
Mrs. Heron in his letter of thanks. She had argued that the present was
for him, really, and that if she wrote Mrs. Heron it would look
"pushing."
Roger let the matter slide, and had written in his wife's name and his
own. At last he read in some newspaper that "Mr. and Mrs. John Heron
intended shortly to start for the east, where they would spend the
summer." Without waiting to consult Beverley he wrote, saying he had
read the news, and he and his wife hoped for a visit in their Newport
house as soon as it was ready. He had written, not from the office, but
from home, with the Park Avenue address on the paper. To-day, as he
entered his study, his eye lit on an envelope with John Heron's writing
upon it.
The letter lay on the top of others on his desk, and instead of going to
find Beverley at once, as was his lover's custom, he sat down to read
his correspondence.
The first letter he opened was Heron's, which consisted of a few lines
on one page. Roger's eyes took in the whole at a glance.



     DEAR MR. SANDS:



     My wife and I are obliged to you for your kind invitation, but

     owing to the fact that we have already made a great number of

     engagements I fear we shall be unable to give ourselves the

     pleasure of accepting.



     Yours truly,

     JOHN HERON.
The blood rushed to Roger's forehead. He realized that this was a
deliberate insult.
The last letter had begun "Dear Sands," and had been signed "Yours
gratefully ever." Roger was even more furious than mystified. "Next time
he wants me to pull him out of a death trap, he can whistle for his
pains!"
At that instant Beverley tapped at the door, and half opened it to peep
in.
This irritated Roger. He had told her from the first that she need not
knock at his study door.
"How often have I begged you not to knock?" he broke out at her. "Come
in if you want to."
It was the first time he had ever spoken crossly. Beverley started, and
the look on her face, instead of overwhelming Roger with remorse,
hardened him.
Beverley's colour had been bright, but she turned pale as Roger flung at
her his scolding words. Seeing the letter in her husband's hand the
blood streamed back to her cheeks. If she could possibly have known and