ohn Arthur
has put a new thought in my head. 'Confound you,' he growled; it was
his parting benediction, 'I might have known your father's blood ruled
you. I might have looked for cunning and intrigue from that confounded
Expert's Daughter.' It is true, Claire; I am the daughter of an
Expert, a detective, brave and shrewd. Hagar says that I am like my
father, and that I have inherited his talents. When I recall the knot
we have just unravelled, the war we have just waged, I can but think
that my father's chosen calling may have become mine. If the world
ever grows stale, if I pine for change or excitement or absorbing
occupation, I can go to my father's chief and say, 'I am the daughter
of Lionel Payne, the Expert, and I have inherited a measure of my
father's talents.' Do you think he will trust his knotty cases to the
Expert's Daughter?"

"I think he will, if he is wise. But, Madeline, all this is folly. You
will never leave us. Olive wants you; we all want you."

"And you will all have enough of me. But, Claire, do not ask me to
stay now. It is better for me, better for all, that I go away. I must
let old memories die out. I want to forget old scenes. I want rest. I
need to school my wayward nature, to teach my heart to beat calmly,
my soul to possess itself in peace. Claire, I must go."

Just here, some one taps softly. It is a servant who holds in her
hands a telegram from Olive to Madeline, which runs thus:

All is well. Philip and I start for home to-night. Meet us
there without fail, all of you.

OLIVE.

They read it together, and then Claire burst into tears--tears of joy
and thankfulness.

"Philip is free once more! Oh, Madeline, Madeline; and it was you who
saved him; it was _you_!"

Madeline pushes the message into her hand, saying: "If I have done
such wonderful things, why do you refuse to obey me? Go, now, and take
this good news to Clarence Vaughan. And mind you, don't come back, for
I am going to tell Mrs. Ralston."

Half laughing, half crying, Claire is compelled to go down to the
library alone. Clarence Vaughan is there, pacing thoughtfully up and
down.

Claire enters softly, the paper ostentatiously displayed in her hand.
But he looks straight at the blushing, bashful, tear-stained face. Her
eyes, half glad, half shy, wholly tell-tale, fall before his own. And
the lover who has waited in patience for his opportunity, seizes it
now and ma