Cherry Malotte withdrew her proffered hand and her face grew hard and hateful.

“Oh!  So you are Miss Chester—­and I—­saved you!” She laughed harshly.

Helen strove for calmness.  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, coolly.  “I appreciate your service to me.”  She moved towards the door.

“Wait a moment.  I want to talk to you.”  Then, as Helen paid no heed, the woman burst out, bitterly:  “Oh, don’t be afraid!  I know you are committing an unpardonable sin by talking to me, but no one will see you, and in your code the crime lies in being discovered.  Therefore, you’re quite safe.  That’s what makes me an outcast—­I was found out.  I want you to know, however, that, bad as I am, I’m better than you, for I’m loyal to those that like me, and I don’t betray my friends.”

“I don’t pretend to understand you,” said Helen, coldly.

“Oh yes, you do!  Don’t assume such innocence.  Of course it’s your role, but you can’t play it with me.”  She stepped in front of her visitor, placing her back against the door, while her face was bitter and mocking.  “The little service I did you just now entitles me to a privilege, I suppose, and I’m going to take advantage of it to tell you how badly your mask fits.  Dreadfully rude of me, isn’t it?  You’re in with a fine lot of crooks, and I admire the way you’ve done your share of the dirty work, but when you assume these scandalized, supervirtuous airs it offends me.”

“Let me out!”

“I’ve done bad things,” Cherry continued, unheedingly, “but I was forced into them, usually, and I never, deliberately, tried to wreck a man’s life just for his money.”

“What do you mean by saying that I have betrayed my friends and wrecked anybody’s life?” Helen demanded, hotly.

“Bah!  I had you sized up at the start, but Roy couldn’t see it.  Then Struve told me what I hadn’t guessed.  A bottle of wine, a woman, and that fool will tell all he knows.  It’s a great game McNamara’s playing and he did well to get you in on it, for you’re clever, your nerve is good, and your make-up is great for the part.  I ought to know, for I’ve turned a few tricks myself.  You’ll pardon this little burst of feeling—­professional pique.  I’m jealous of your ability, that’s all.  However, now that you realize we’re in the same class, don’t look down on me hereafter.”  She opened the door and bowed her guest out with elaborate mockery.

Helen was too bewildered and humiliated to make much out of this vicious and incoherent attack except the fact that Cherry Malotte accused her of a part in this conspiracy which every one seemed to believe existed.  Here again was that hint of corruption which she encountered on all sides.  This might be merely a woman’s jealousy--and yet she said Struve had told her all about it—­that a bottle of wine and a pretty face would make the lawyer disclose everything.  She could believe it from what she knew and had heard of him.  The feeling