call at the Pixley house.

If nothing came of that--he grew valiant in his new access of life--he
would beard Jeremiah Pixley in his den in Lincoln's Inn, state clearly
how matters stood, and request permission to approach his ward.

After all, this is a free country, and all men are equal under the
law, though he had his own doubts as to whether he would find himself
quite equal to that gleaming pillar of light, Mr. Jeremiah Pixley.

So he wrote--

"DEAR MISS BRANDT,--I wrote to you a few days ago, giving you
the information of our dear friend Lady Elspeth's sudden summons
to Inverstrife, to attend her niece, the Countess of Assynt.

"I hope you will not consider it presumption on my part to
express the fear that my letter has somehow miscarried--probably
through some oversight of my own, or carelessness on the part of
the postal authorities.

"You will, I know, be glad to hear that Lady Elspeth
accomplished her journey in safety and without undue discomfort.
But Lady Assynt's condition makes it probable that her stay may
be somewhat prolonged.

"I venture to hope that you may regret this as much as I do. All
who enjoyed Lady Elspeth's friendship and hospitality cannot but
miss her sorely.

"I hope, however, that I may still have the pleasure of meeting
you occasionally elsewhere. When one has not the habit of
readily making new friendships one clings the more firmly to
those already made.--Sincerely yours,

"JOHN C. GRAEME."

That letter he dropped into the Pixley letterbox himself that night,
and so was assured of its delivery. But two days passed in waning
hope, and the afternoon of the third found him on the doorstep of No.
1 Melgrave Square.

II

"Miss Brandt?"

The solemn-faced man-servant eyed him suspiciously as a stranger. He
looked, to Graeme, like a superannuated official of the Court of
Chancery.

"Miss Brandt is not at home, sir."

"Mrs. Pixley?"

"Mrs. Pixley is not at home, sir."

Was he right or wrong, he wondered, in thinking he detected a gleam of
satisfied anticipation, of gratified understanding, in the solemn
one's otherwise rigid eye--as of one who had been told to expect this
and was lugubriously contented that it had duly come to pass?

However, there was nothing more to be done there at the moment. The
polite conventions, to say nothing of the law, forbade him the
pleasure of hurling the outc