Her hand was still on the key of the lamp when the last word of this mute message reached him.  She turned the wick down, lifted off the globe, and breathed on the sulky flame.

“They smell less if one blows them out,” she explained, with her bright housekeeping air.  On the threshold she turned and paused for his kiss.

XXVII.

Wall Street, the next day, had more reassuring reports of Beaufort’s situation.  They were not definite, but they were hopeful.  It was generally understood that he could call on powerful influences in case of emergency, and that he had done so with success; and that evening, when Mrs. Beaufort appeared at the Opera wearing her old smile and a new emerald necklace, society drew a breath of relief.

New York was inexorable in its condemnation of business irregularities.  So far there had been no exception to its tacit rule that those who broke the law of probity must pay; and every one was aware that even Beaufort and Beaufort’s wife would be offered up unflinchingly to this principle.  But to be obliged to offer them up would be not only painful but inconvenient.  The disappearance of the Beauforts would leave a considerable void in their compact little circle; and those who were too ignorant or too careless to shudder at the moral catastrophe bewailed in advance the loss of the best ball-room in New York.

Archer had definitely made up his mind to go to Washington.  He was waiting only for the opening of the law-suit of which he had spoken to May, so that its date might coincide with that of his visit; but on the following Tuesday he learned from Mr. Letterblair that the case might be postponed for several weeks.  Nevertheless, he went home that afternoon determined in any event to leave the next evening.  The chances were that May, who knew nothing of his professional life, and had never shown any interest in it, would not learn of the postponement, should it take place, nor remember the names of the litigants if they were mentioned before her; and at any rate he could no longer put off seeing Madame Olenska.  There were too many things that he must say to her.

On the Wednesday morning, when he reached his office, Mr. Letterblair met him with a troubled face.  Beaufort, after all, had not managed to “tide over”; but by setting afloat the rumour that he had done so he had reassured his depositors, and heavy payments had poured into the bank till the previous evening, when disturbing reports again began to predominate.  In consequence, a run on the bank had begun, and its doors were likely to close before the day was over.  The ugliest things were being said of Beaufort’s dastardly manoeuvre, and his failure promised to be one of the most discreditable in the history of Wall Street.