



Produced by D Alexander and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net









 THE MOVING
 FINGER

 BY

 E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM

 AUTHOR OF "THE LOST AMBASSADOR," "THE ILLUSTRIOUS
 PRINCE," "JEANNE OF THE MARSHES," ETC.

 _With Illustrations by_
 J. V. McFALL

 BOSTON
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
 1911




 _Copyright, 1910, 1911_,
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

 _All rights reserved._

 Published, May, 1911.

 _Printed by
 THE  COLONIAL  PRESS
 C. H. Simonds & Co., Boston, U. S. A._




 [Illustration: "Sit still," he whispered. "Don't say anything. There
 is someone coming."  FRONTISPIECE. _See p._ 166]




     "The Moving Finger writes; and having writ,
     Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit
     Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
     Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."




CONTENTS


 CHAPTER                                                     PAGE

         PROLOGUE--THE DREAMER                                 1
      I. A LETTER PROVES USEFUL                               11
     II. OLD ACQUAINTANCES                                    17
    III. "WHO IS MR. SATON?"                                  23
     IV. A QUESTION OF OBLIGATION                             32
      V. A MORNING WALK                                       46
     VI. PAULINE MARRABEL                                     54
    VII. AN UNWELCOME VISITOR                                 61
   VIII. AN INSTANCE OF OCCULTISM                             67
     IX. A SENTIMENTAL TALK                                   74
      X. THE SCENE CHANGES                                    80
     XI. A BUSY EVENING                                       86
    XII. A CALL ON LADY MARRABEL                              97
   XIII. LADY MARY'S DILEMMA                                 105
    XIV. PETTY WORRIES                                       114
     XV. ROCHESTER IS INDIGNANT                              124
    XVI. PLAIN SPEAKING                                      133
   XVII. THE GREAT NAUDHEIM                                  141
  XVIII. ROCHESTER'S ULTIMATUM                               150
    XIX. TROUBLE BREWING                                     158
     XX. FIRST BLOOD                                         165
    XXI. AFRAID!                                             172
   XXII. SATON REASSERTS HIMSELF                             178
  XXIII. AN UNPLEASANT ENCOUNTER                             186
   XXIV. LOIS IS OBEDIENT                                    194
    XXV. A LAST WARNING                                      202
   XXVI. THE DUCHESS'S DINNER PARTY                          209
  XXVII. THE ANSWER TO A RIDDLE                              215
 XXVIII. SPOKEN FROM THE HEART                               224
   XXIX. THE COURAGE OF DESPERATION                          232
    XXX. A SURPRISING REQUEST                                239
   XXXI. BETWEEN LOVE AND DUTY                               248
  XXXII. AT THE EDGE OF THE PRECIPICE                        255
 XXXIII. "YOU DO NOT BELIEVE IN ME!"                         261
  XXXIV. A WOMAN'S TONGUE                                    269
   XXXV. ON LOIS' BIRTHDAY                                   278
  XXXVI. THE CHARLATAN UNMASKED                              284
         EPILOGUE--THE MAN                                   294




 ILLUSTRATIONS


 "Sit still," he whispered. "Don't say anything.
 There is someone coming"                         _Frontispiece_

 He came to a standstill by the side of the boy       _Page_   2

 "Some water quick, and brandy," Rochester
 cried                                                   "    73

 She swayed for a moment, and fell over on
 her side                                                "   222




THE MOVING FINGER




PROLOGUE

THE DREAMER


The boy sat with his back to a rock, his knees drawn up and clasped
within fingers nervously interlocked. His eyes were fixed upon the
great stretch of landscape below, shadowy now, and indistinct, like a
rolling plain of patchwork woven by mysterious fingers. Gray mists
were floating over the meadows and low-lying lands. Away in the
distance they marked the circuitous course of the river, which only an
hour ago had shone like a belt of silver in the light of the setting
sun. Twilight had fallen with unexpected swiftness. Here and there a
light flashed from the isolated farmhouses. On the darkening horizon,
a warm glow was reflected in the clouds from the distant town.

The boy, when