There came a knock at the outer door, and before that of her own room opened, she recognized the step of the visitor. So it was Tarboe had come. He remembered that day in the street when he met Junia, and was shown there were times when a woman could not be approached with emotion. He had waited till the day he knew she was alone, for he had made a friend of her servant by judicious gifts of money.
“I hope you’re glad to see me,” he said with an uncertain smile, as he saw her surprise.
“I hope I am,” she replied, and motioned him to a seat. He chose a high-backed chair with a wide seat near the lounge. He made a motion of humorous dissent to her remark, and sat down.
“Well, we pulled it off somehow, didn’t we?” she said. “Carnac Grier is M.P.”
“And his foe is in his grave,” remarked Tarboe dryly. “Providence pays debts that ought to be paid. This election has settled a lot of things,” she returned with a smile.
“I suppose it has, and I’ve come here to try and find one of the settlements.”
“Well, find them,” she retorted.
“I said one of the settlements only. I have to be accurate in my life.”
“I’m glad to hear of it. You helped Mr. Grier win his election. It was splendid of you. Think of it, Mr. Tarboe, Carnac Grier is beginning to get even with his foes.”
“I’m not a foe—if that’s what you mean. I’ve proved it.”