know nothing about--why, that would put an
entirely different complexion upon the affair."

"Suppose," she propounded evenly, "that it was Uncle Alfred?"

I looked at her earnestly.

"You don't know that he was here," was my sober comment.

"No."

"Well, then, what's the use of borrowing trouble?"

"It's very silly--especially as I have trouble enough as it is."

With an impulsive movement, she thrust one little gloved hand into mine.

"I am still your assistant," she affirmed, striving hard to be gay, "if
you will have me now. Together we will drive the trouble away."

I caught the other hand, and held the two of them together. She
permitted the caress for a moment--for caress it was--then drew her
hands away.

"Good-bye," she said faintly, without looking up.

But I got my hat and coat and walked down to the gate with her. Of a
sudden, after we reached the walk, she moved a pace or two away from me
and halted. Her pretty face dimpled in a smile, and there was a gleam
of mischief in the blue eyes. One can't be always melancholy.

"I suppose I 'm a big goose," she said, "to have any faith in you; I 'm
thinking it's a case of misplaced confidence."

She waved a hand, gathered her skirts closely about her slender figure
and tripped away through the snow.

I could not realize any portion of the past when she had not been near
and dear to me.

CHAPTER XIV

RIDDLES

I returned to the library and heaped the fireplace with coal. For an
hour after Genevieve's departure I was utterly unable to concentrate my
mind upon any congeries of fact that might be of the least possible use
in unravelling the badly tangled skein presented by Felix Page's death;
I could see nothing but the fine blue eyes clouded with trouble, and
the sweet face under the shadow of her gnawing anxiety.

I fished up the cipher, flattened it upon the library table, and strove
manfully to hold my vagrant attention to the task of interpreting its
secret message. My thoughts straightway wandered back to Genevieve
again.

Now that I was alone, it was inevitable that I should sum up the
results of our conference. I did not blink the truth; the facts were
plain, not susceptible of argument.

No matter what the future might have in store for Genevieve and me,
whether it was replete with delicious promise, or whether the useless
iron gate marked the parting of our ways, her intrusion must ever
remain a cherished memory. But it w