dded, looking strangely troubled as the door swung open, revealing
the tall, strong figure of a man facing them from the porch.

"A stranger," formed itself upon her lips, and she was moving forward,
when the man suddenly stepped into the glare of the light, and she
stopped, with a murmur of dismay which pierced Mr. Challoner's heart and
prepared him for the words which now fell shudderingly from her lips:

"It is he! it is he! I said that I should know him wherever I saw him."
Then with a quiet turn towards the intruder, "Oh, why, why, did you come
here!"

XXIX. DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER

Her hands were thrust out to repel, her features were fixed; her beauty
something wonderful. Orlando Brotherson, thus met, stared for a moment
at the vision before him, then slowly and with effort withdrawing his
gaze, he sought the face of Mr. Challoner with the first sign of open
disturbance that gentleman had ever seen in him.

"Ah," said he, "my welcome is readily understood. I see you far from
home, sir." And with an ironical bow he turned again to Doris, who had
dropped her hands, but in whose cheeks the pallor still lingered in a
way to check the easy flow of words with which he might have sought to
carry off the situation. "Am I in Oswald Brotherson's house?" he asked.
"I was directed here. But possibly there may be some mistake."

"It is here he lives," said she; moving back automatically till she
stood again by the threshold of the small room in which she had received
Mr. Challoner. "Do you wish to see him to-night? If so, I fear it is
impossible. He has been very ill and is not allowed to receive visits
from strangers."

"I am not a stranger," announced the newcomer, with a smile few could
see unmoved, it offered such a contrast to his stern and dominating
figure. "I thought I heard some words of recognition which would prove
your knowledge of that fact."

She did not answer. Her lips had parted, but her thought or at least the
expression of her thought hung suspended in the terror of this meeting
for which she was not at all prepared. He seemed to note this terror,
whether or not he understood its cause, and smiled again, as he added:

"Mr. Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando. I am he, Miss
Scott. Will you let me come in now?"

Her eyes sought those of Mr. Challoner, who quietly nodded. Immediately
she stepped from before the door which her figure had guarded and,
motioning him to enter, she