lope thick with enclosed papers.

"There," said he. "Telephone me when you have read them."

"I shall not read them."

"No?" he smiled; and, repossessing himself of the envelope, he tore off
one end, extracted the sheets with which it was filled, and laid them
down still unfolded, in their former place on the table-top.

The suggestiveness of the action caused the corners of Miss Srange's
delicate lips to twitch wistfully, before settling into an ironic smile.

Calmly the other watched her.

"I am on a vacation," she loftily explained, as she finally met his
studiously non-quizzical glance. "Oh, I know that I am in my own home!"
she petulantly acknowledged, as his gaze took in the room; "and that the
automobile is at the door; and that I'm dressed for shopping. But for
all that I'm on a vacation--a mental one," she emphasized; "and business
must wait. I haven't got over the last affair," she protested, as he
maintained a discreet silence, "and the season is so gay just now--so
many balls, so many--But that isn't the worst. Father is beginning to
wake up--and if he ever suspects--" A significant gesture ended this
appeal.

The personage knew her father--everyone did--and the wonder had always
been that she dared run the risk of displeasing one so implacable.
Though she was his favourite child, Peter Strange was known to be quite
capable of cutting her off with a shilling, once his close, prejudiced
mind conceived it to be his duty. And that he would so interpret the
situation, if he ever came to learn the secret of his daughter's fits
of abstraction and the sly bank account she was slowly accumulating, the
personage holding out this dangerous lure had no doubt at all. Yet he
only smiled at her words and remarked in casual suggestion:

"It's out of town this time--'way out. Your health certainly demands a
change of air."

"My health is good. Fortunately, or unfortunately, as one may choose to
look at it, it furnishes me with no excuse for an outing," she steadily
retorted, turning her back on the table.

"Ah, excuse me!" the insidious voice apologized, "your paleness misled
me. Surely a night or two's change might be beneficial."

She gave him a quick side look, and began to adjust her boa.

To this hint he paid no attention.

"The affair is quite out of the ordinary," he pursued in the tone of one
rehearsing a part. But there he stopped. For some reason, not altogether
apparent to the masculine mind, the p