ad hint, but Mr. Hungerford did not take it.

"Oh, no," he replied; "not at all. Good-night, Captain."

He seated himself on the sofa. Daniel, frowning, followed his wife
upstairs.

The conversation which ensued was confined almost altogether to
Hungerford and Gertrude. John Doane had little to say, and less
opportunity to say it. Each remark made by the young lady was answered
by Percy, and that gentleman talked almost incessantly. His remarks also
were of a semi-confidential nature, dealing with happenings at various
social affairs which Gertrude and he had attended, and hints at previous
conversations and understandings between them. John began to feel
himself an outsider. After a time he ceased trying to talk and relapsed
into silence.

Gertrude noticed the silence and, seizing a moment when her entertaining
cousin had paused, perhaps for breath, said, almost sharply:

"John, why don't you say something? You haven't spoken for five
minutes."

John said very little, even in reply to this accusation.

"Haven't I?" he observed. "Well, what shall I say?"

"You might say something, considering that you and I haven't seen each
other for so long."

Mr. Hungerford rose. "I hope I haven't interfered," he announced.
"Didn't mean to intrude, I assure you. Beg pardon--er--Doane."

John did not answer. Gertrude also rose.

"Good-night, Cousin Percy," she said, with a gracious smile. "Thank you
so much for the carriage and your escort."

"Quite welcome. Pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Gertrude. Oh, by the way,
I believe you and I are to go over that paper of your mother's tomorrow.
She asked my advice and said you would assist, I think. I shall look
forward to that assistance. Good-night, Doane. Glad to have met you, I'm
sure."

He strolled out. Upon reaching his room he discovered that his cigar
case was empty. Hapgood not being on hand and, feeling the need of a
bedtime smoke, he tiptoed down the stairs and through the back hall into
the library. The room was dark, but sufficient light shone between the
closed curtains of the drawing-room to enable him to locate Captain
Dan's box. Silently and very slowly he refilled the case.

John Doane and Gertrude, alone at last, looked at each other. The former
was very solemn. Gertrude, quite aware of the solemnity, but not
aware of its principal cause--her father's impolitic disclosure of his
apprehensions concerning herself--was nervous and a bit impatient.

"Well, John