and of doubtful issue.  It had to be so, because it involved the reactions of strong-tempered persons as yet unacquainted who would have no foreknowledge of the design behind their new relationship; and because its success or failure, which might also mean his own complete failure, the complete loss of all he had thus far gained, depended largely upon the twist of events which he could not foresee and therefore could not guide.

Briefly, his plan was so to manage as to have Maggie received in the Sherwood household as a guest, to have her receive the frank, unquestioning hospitality (and perhaps friendship) of such a gracious, highly placed, unpretentious woman as Miss Sherwood, so distinctly a native of, and not an immigrant to, the great world.  To be received as a friend by those against whom she plotted, to have the generous, unsuspecting friendship of Miss Sherwood—­if anything just then had a chance to open the blinded Maggie’s eyes to the evil and error of what she was engaged upon, if anything had a chance to appeal to the finer things he believed to exist unrecognized or suppressed in Maggie, this was that thing.

And best part of this plan, its effect would be only within Maggie’s self.  No one need know that anything had happened.  There would be no exposure, no humiliation.

Of course there was the great question of how to get Miss Sherwood to invite Maggie; and whether indeed Miss Sherwood would invite her at all.  And there was the further question, the invitation being sent, of whether Maggie would accept.

Larry decided to manipulate his design through Dick Sherwood.  Late that afternoon, when Dick, just returned from the city, dropped into, as was his before-dinner custom, the office-study which had been set aside for Larry’s use, Larry, after an adroit approach to his subject, continued: 

“And since I’ve been wished on you as a sort of step-uncle, there’s something I’d like to suggest—­if I don’t seem to be fairly jimmying my way into your affairs.”

“Door’s unlocked and wide open, Captain,” said Dick.  “Walk right in and take the best chair.”

“Thanks.  Remember telling me about a young woman you recently met?  A Miss Maggie—­Maggie—­”

“Miss Cameron,” Dick prompted.  “Of course I remember.”

“And remember your telling me that this time it’s the real thing?”

“And it is the real thing!”

“You haven’t—­excuse me—­asked her to marry you yet?”

“No.  I’ve been trying to get up my nerve.”

“Here’s where you’ve got to excuse me once more, Dick—­it’s not my business to tell you what should be your relations with your family—­ but have you told your sister?”

“No.”  Dick hesitated.  “I suppose I should.  But I hadn’t thought of it—­yet.  You see—­” Again Dick hesitated.

“Yes?” prompted Larry.

“There are her relatives—­that cousin and uncle.  I guess it must have been my thinking of them that prevented my thinking of what you suggest.”