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Updated: September 15, 2025
"Come this way," and with no gentle hand the foreigner propelled Spencer down the hall out of sight of the guests and out of doors. Miss Kiametia Grey, enjoying watching the dancing as much as her guests enjoyed participating in it, was interrupted in her desultory conversation with two chaperons by one of the club attendants.
With anxious haste she manipulated its delicate mechanism, and slipped back the needle to its hiding place. Forgotten for the moment was her own problem. Brilliant, gifted Kiametia Grey a drug fiend Oh, the pity of it!
"How you men do jump at conclusions," grumbled Miss Kiametia. "I believe Julie, the maid, killed Spencer because she found him snooping around where he had no business to be." "Why should the maid play watchdog?" "Because she's French, stupid; and I believe, firmly believe, Sinclair Spencer was in the pay of Germany.
"Vincent said something about Captain Miller having called is the Captain here?" "He has gone upstairs with your husband and Detective Mitchell," answered Foster. "Tell me, Mrs. Whitney, was Sinclair Spencer visiting you for any length of time?" "Oh, no; his stopping here last night was quite unexpected; in fact so unexpected to me that I accidentally put Kiametia in the same room with him."
People do not usually wait in elevators, Kiametia." "There's no law against it," was her tart reply. "I have very good reason to believe Spencer was not going out of the house." "May I ask what that reason is?" "He wore no shoes," and for an instant a smile hovered on her lips as she caught his startled expression.
Kathleen, chatting gayly with first one visitor and then another, was unaware that with the passing of time her eyes strayed more and more frequently to the hall doorway, nor was she conscious that they gained an added brightness on perceiving Captain Charles Miller enter the room. Owing to the departure of other guests Miss Kiametia contented herself with shaking Miller's hand warmly.
"Senator Foster is splendid and I had hoped why do you discourage his attentions?" "Can't stand the way he wears his hair," announced Miss Kiametia with an air of finality which warned against further discussion. "Marry him and make him change his barber," advised Whitney rising. "I have to go out, Minna; you and Kathleen must not wait up for me.
Instantly Miss Kiametia was on her feet, and her strident call, "Madam chairman, madam chairman," rose repeatedly above the hubbub. Mrs. Whitney pounded for order and gave the spinster the floor. "I rise to a question of information," explained Miss Kiametia, in tones which echoed through the rooms. "Is this an indignation meeting or an assemblage of Sisters in Unity?" she demanded, and sat down.
"Kiametia!" called a voice in the hallway, and the next moment the portieres parted and Mrs. Whitney walked into the library. "Oh, there you are, my dear; I feared you had gone. I am so glad to see you, Senator," clasping Foster's extended hand warmly. "Winslow and I both hoped you could come to us. We want your advice." "I am entirely at your disposal."
"The strength of your own individuality will carry you over many obstacles," finished Miss Kiametia, giving Miller's hand a friendly tap with the paper-cutter. "Read mine next," and Foster held out his right hand. "Haven't time; besides," the spinster's eyes twinkled, "I know your character like a book. What is it, Sylvester?" as her colored butler appeared, card tray in hand. "More visitors?
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