hang over
his life. He spoke slowly, deliberately, choosing his words with a view
to sparing Phil Abingdon's feelings as far as possible.

She made no comment throughout, but her fingers alternately tightened
and relaxed their hold upon the arms of the chair in which she was
seated. Once, at some reference to words spoken by her father, her
sensitive lips began to quiver and Harley, watching her, paused. She
held the chair arms more tightly. "Please go on, Mr. Harley," she said.

The words were spoken in a very low voice, but the speaker looked up
bravely, and Harley, reassured, proceeded uninterruptedly to the end of
the story. Then:

"At some future time, Miss Abingdon," he concluded, "I hope you will
allow me to call upon you. There is so much to be discussed--"

Again Phil Abingdon looked up into his face. "I have forced myself
to come to see you to-day," she said, "because I realize there is no
service I can do poor dad so important as finding out--"

"I understand," Harley interrupted, gently. "But--"

"No, no." Phil Abingdon shook her head rebelliously. "Please ask me what
you want to know. I came for that."

He met the glance of violet eyes, and understood something of Doctor
McMurdoch's helplessness. He found his thoughts again wandering into
strange, wild byways and was only recalled to the realities by the
dry, gloomy voice of the physician. "Go on, Mr. Harley," said Doctor
McMurdoch. "She has grand courage."

CHAPTER VII. CONFESSIONS

Paul Harley crossed the room and stood in front of the tall Burmese
cabinet. He experienced the utmost difficulty in adopting a judicial
attitude toward his beautiful visitor. Proximity increased his mental
confusion. Therefore he stood on the opposite side of the office ere
beginning to question her.

"In the first place, Miss Abingdon," he said, speaking very
deliberately, "do you attach any particular significance to the term
'Fire-Tongue'?"

Phil Abingdon glanced rapidly at Doctor McMurdoch. "None at all, Mr.
Harley," she replied. "The doctor has already told me of--"

"You know why I ask?" She inclined her head.

"And Mr. Nicol Brinn? Have you met this gentleman?"

"Never. I know that Dad had met him and was very much interested in
him."

"In what way?"

"I have no idea. He told me that he thought Mr. Brinn one of the most
singular characters he had ever known. But beyond describing his rooms
in Piccadilly, which had impressed him as extraordinary,