Father and son! For seven years they had not met. Their indifference
seemed so inhuman! Still, she fancied that the son dared not make any
approach, however much he may have longed to. A woman! They had quarrelled
over a woman! Something reached down from the invisible and pinched her
heart.

All this while Cunningham had been talking--banter. The blade would flash
toward the father or whirl upon the son, or it would come toward her by
the handle. She could not get away from the initial idea--that his eyes
were like fire opals.

"Miss Norman, you have very beautiful hair."

"You think so?"

"It looks like Judith's. You remember, Cleigh, the one that hangs in the
Pitti Galleria in Florence--Allori's?"

Cleigh reached for a piece of bread, which he broke and buttered.

Cunningham turned to Jane again.

"Will you do me the favour of taking out the hairpins and loosing it?"

"No!" said Dennison.

"Why not?" said Jane, smiling bravely enough, though there ran over her
spine a chill.

It wasn't Cunningham's request--it was Dennison's refusal. That syllable,
though spoken moderately, was the essence of battle, murder, and sudden
death. If they should clash it would mean that Denny--how easy it was to
call him that!--Denny would be locked up and she would be all alone. For
the father seemed as aloof and remote as the pole.

"You shall not do it!" declared Dennison. "Cunningham, if you force her I
will break every bone in your body here and now!"

Cleigh selected an olive and began munching it.

"Nonsense!" cried Jane. "It's all awry anyhow." And she began to extract
the hairpins. Presently she shook her head, and the ruddy mass of hair
fell and rippled across and down her shoulders.

"Well?" she said, looking whimsically into Cunningham's eyes. "It wasn't
there, was it?"

This tickled Cunningham.

"You're a woman in a million! You read my thought perfectly. I like ready
wit in a woman. I had to find out. You see, I had promised those beads to
Cleigh, and when I humanly can I keep my promises. Sit down, captain!" For
Dennison had risen to his feet. "Sit down! Don't start anything you can't
finish." To Jane there was in the tone a quality which made her compare it
with the elder Cleigh's eyes--agate-hard. "You are younger and stronger,
and no doubt you could break me. But the moment my hand is withdrawn from
this business--the moment I am off the board--I could not vouch for the
crew. They are more or less