tell you?"

"Pray tell the story in your own way, Sir Charles," said Harley with
sympathy. "I am all attention, and I shall only interrupt you in the
event of any point not being quite clear."

"Thank you," said Sir Charles. "I find it so much easier to explain
the matter now. To continue, there is a certain distinguished Oriental
gentleman--"

He paused as Benson appeared to remove the soup plates.

"It is always delightful to chat with one who knows India so well as you
do," he continued, glancing significantly at his guest.

Paul Harley, who fully appreciated the purpose of this abrupt change
in the conversation, nodded in agreement. "The call of the East," he
replied, "is a very real thing. Only one who has heard it can understand
and appreciate all it means."

The butler, an excellently trained servant, went about his work with
quiet efficiency, and once Harley heard him mutter rapid instructions to
the surly parlourmaid, who hovered disdainfully in the background.
When again host and guest found themselves alone: "I don't in any way
distrust the servants," explained Sir Charles, "but one cannot hope
to prevent gossip." He raised his serviette to his lips and almost
immediately resumed: "I was about to tell you, Mr. Harley, about my
daughter's--"

He paused and cleared his throat, then, hastily pouring out a glass of
water, he drank a sip or two and Paul Harley noticed that his hand was
shaking nervously. He thought of the photograph in the library, and now,
in this reference to a distinguished Oriental gentleman, he suddenly
perceived the possible drift of the conversation.

This was the point to which Sir Charles evidently experienced such
difficulty in coming. It was something which concerned his daughter;
and, mentally visualizing the pure oval face and taunting eyes of the
library photograph, Harley found it impossible to believe that the evil
which threatened Sir Charles could possibly be associated in any way
with Phyllis Abingdon.

Yet, if the revelation which he had to make must be held responsible for
his present condition, then truly it was a dreadful one. No longer able
to conceal his concern, Harley stood up. "If the story distresses you so
keenly, Sir Charles," he said, "I beg--"

Sir Charles waved his hand reassuringly. "A mere nothing. It will pass,"
he whispered.

"But I fear," continued Harley, "that--"

He ceased abruptly, and ran to his host's assistance, for the latter,
evidentl