"As far as I know of, sir."

"Will you tell her I wish to see her?"

Again the man hesitated.

"Excuse me, sir," he said presently, "but you can't see her."

"Why?" he asked in a dazed way.

"It's not for me to say, sir."

By a strong effort he controlled himself, the old look of determination
came back into his eyes, and he spoke more like his normal self.

"Am I to understand that you have her orders to this effect?"

"Yes, sir--that is, from Mr. Castlemaine, sir."

"Will you please go and tell her that I am here, and that I wish to see
her?"

There was a tone of command in his voice. The man felt like obeying.

"It's no use, sir," he said; "my orders was most explicit, sir."

A savage look flashed into his eyes, but he held himself under control.

"I wish you to go to Miss Castlemaine and tell her that I must see her."

"My orders, sir, was most----"

"Go and tell her," he said quietly, "that I must see her, and that I
shall wait here until I do."

The look in his eyes frightened the old servant. Besides, for some time
now, he had been led to look upon him as his future master.

"For God's sake, Mr. Leicester----" he said piteously.

"Go, or I will not be answerable for the consequences," he said, in the
same quiet tones; "tell them that I will not take 'No' for an answer."

The servant looked helplessly, first at Leicester and then at Winfield.
Finally he closed the door in their faces like one afraid.

"I'll do the best I can, sir," he said, "but you must not come in."

A few minutes later he came back again, and his face was almost as pale
as that of the young man who had stood as still as a statue on the
doorstep.

"If you please, sir, you are both to follow me," he said in a frightened
whisper.

Leicester was perfectly calm now, but the calm was unnatural; his every
feature was set and rigid, his face had a pallor that was deathly. He
followed the man without a word. As for Winfield, he felt that the whole
atmosphere of the place was charged with excitement, and he wondered
why he was also asked to follow the servant.

With faltering steps the man led the way into the library. Leicester
knew that this was John Castlemaine's favourite room, and that it was
here he spent most of his time when he was at home. The servant opened
the door, and then closed it again, noiselessly.

Olive Castlemaine and her father were both standing near the fireplace
as the young men entered. The man's fa