ng
over the little party. Duncombe raised his glass and half emptied its
contents. Then he set it down and leaned back in his chair.

"Well," he said, "I am ready for the inquisition. Go on, Andrew."

Pelham fingered his own glass nervously. He seemed to find his task no
easy one.

"George," he said, "we are old friends. I want you to remember it. I
want you also to remember that I am in a hideous state of worry and
nerves"--he passed his hand over his forehead just above his eyes as
though they were hurting him. "I am not behaving to you as a guest
should to his host. I admit it freely. I have lost my temper more than
once during the last twenty-four hours. I am sorry! Forgive me if you
can, George!"

"Willingly, Andrew," Duncombe answered. "I shall think no more about
it."

"At the same time," Pelham continued, "there is another point to be
considered. Have you been quite fair to me, George? Remember that
Phyllis Poynton is the one person whose existence reconciles me to life.
You had never even heard her name before I sent for you. You went
abroad, like the good fellow you are, to find her for me. You assure me
that you have discovered--nothing. Let me put you upon your honor,
George. Is this absolutely true?"

"I have discovered nothing about Phyllis Poynton," Duncombe declared
quietly.

"About Miss Fielding then?"

"Phyllis Poynton and Miss Fielding are two very different persons,"
Duncombe declared.

"That may be so," Pelham said, "although I find it hard to believe that
God ever gave to two women voices so exactly similar. Yet if you are
assured that this is so, why not be altogether frank with me?"

"What have you to complain of?" Duncombe asked.

"Something has happened at Runton Place, in which Mr. Fielding and his
daughter are concerned," Pelham continued. "I have heard all manner of
strange rumors. This afternoon I distinctly heard the girl's voice in
the lane outside. She was crying out as though in fear. A few minutes
later I heard you speaking to some one in the library. Yet when I
entered the room you would not answer me."

"Supposing I grant everything that you say, Andrew," Duncombe answered.
"Supposing I admit that strange things have happened with regard to Mr.
Fielding and his daughter which have resulted in their leaving Runton
Place--even that she was there in the lane this afternoon--how does all
this concern you?"

"Because," Pelham declared, striking the table with his fist, "