promised to develop into a curtsey. Noting the direction of Phil
Abingdon's glance, which was set upon a card attached to the wreath of
hyacinths: "It was the first to arrive, Miss Phil," she said. "Isn't it
beautiful?"

"It's wonderful," said the girl, moving forward and drawing Harley along
with her. She glanced from the card up to his face, which was set in a
rather grim expression.

"Ormuz Khan has been so good," she said. "He sent his secretary to see
if he could be of any assistance yesterday, but I certainly had not
expected this."

Her eyes filled with tears again, and, because he thought they were
tears of gratitude, Harley clenched his hand tightly so that the muscles
of his forearm became taut to Phil Abingdon's touch. She looked up at
him, smiling pathetically: "Don't you think it was awfully kind of him?"
she asked.

"Very," replied Harley.

A dry and sepulchral cough of approval came from Doctor McMurdoch; and
Harley divined with joy that when the ordeal of the next day was over
Phil Abingdon would have to face cross-examination by the conscientious
Scotsman respecting this stranger whose attentions, if Orientally
extravagant, were instinct with such generous sympathy.

For some reason the heavy perfume of the hyacinths affected him
unpleasantly. All his old doubts and suspicions found a new life, so
that his share in the conversation which presently arose became confined
to a few laconic answers to direct questions.

He was angry, and his anger was more than half directed against himself,
because he knew that he had no shadow of right to question this girl
about her friendships or even to advise her. He determined, however,
even at the cost of incurring a rebuke, to urge Doctor McMurdoch to
employ all the influence he possessed to terminate an acquaintanceship
which could not be otherwise than undesirable, if it was not actually
dangerous.

When, presently, the party returned to the neighbouring house of the
physician, however, Harley's plans in this respect were destroyed by
the action of Doctor McMurdoch, in whose composition tact was not a
predominant factor. Almost before they were seated in the doctor's
drawing room he voiced his disapproval. "Phil," he said, ignoring a
silent appeal from his wife, "this is, mayhap, no time to speak of the
matter, but I'm not glad to see the hyacinths."

Phil Abingdon's chin quivered rebelliously, and, to Harley's dismay,
it was upon him that she fixed he