see things very dimly. The doctor has told him that if he wears those
glasses for a few more months he may be able to preserve some measure of
eyesight. Poor chap!"

"He does not attract me--your friend," she said a little coldly. "What
can he find to interest him so much here? Do you see how he keeps his
head turned this way? It is almost as though he wished to listen to what
we were saying."

"There is a sort of reason for that," Duncombe answered. "Shall I
explain it?"

"Do!"

"Pelham lives, as I think I told you, in a small country-house near
Raynesworth," Duncombe began. "The hall in his village was occupied by a
young man--a boy, really--and his sister. Early in the year the boy, who
had never been abroad, thought that he would like to travel a little in
Europe. He wandered about some time in Germany and Austria, and was
coming home by Paris. Suddenly all letters from him ceased. He did not
return. He did not write. He drew no money from his letter of credit. He
simply disappeared."

The girl was proceeding tranquilly with her dinner. The story so far did
not seem to interest her.

"His sister, who went over to Paris to meet him, found herself quite
alone there, and we supposed that she devoted herself to searching for
him. And then curiously enough she, too, disappeared. Letters from her
suddenly ceased. No one knew what had become of her."

She looked at him with a faint smile.

"Now," she said, "your story is becoming interesting. Do go on. I want
to know where you and Mr. Pelham come in."

"Pelham, I think," he continued gravely, "was their oldest friend. He
sent for me. We were old college chums, and I went. This trouble with
his eyes had only just come on, and he was practically helpless--much
more helpless than the ordinary blind person, because it was all new to
him. This boy and girl were his old and dear friends. He was longing to
be off to Paris to search for them himself, and yet he knew that so far
as he was concerned it would be simply wasted time. He showed me the
girl's photograph."

"Well?"

"I went in his place."

"And did you find either of them?"

"No."

"I wonder," she said, "why you have told me this story?"

"I am going to tell you why," he answered. "Because when Pelham heard
you laugh last night he was like a madman. He believed that it was the
voice of Phyllis Poynton. And I--I--when I saw you, I also felt that
miracles were at hand. Look here!"

He drew a photograp