both to me and to you."

"I don't understand you, dad," she exclaimed, walking to his chair
throwing herself upon her knees, and placing her arms around his neck.
"Won't you be more explicit? Won't you tell me the truth? Surely you can
rely upon my secrecy?"

"Yes, child," he said, groping until his hand fell upon her hair, and
then stroking it tenderly; "I trust you. You keep my affairs from those
people who seek to obtain knowledge of them. Without you, I would be
compelled to employ a secretary; but he could be bought, without a
doubt. Most secretaries can."

"Ford was very trustworthy, was he not?"

"Yes, poor Ford," he sighed. "When he died I lost my right hand. But
fortunately you were old enough to take his place."

"But in a case like this, when you are worried and excited, as you are
at this moment, why not confide in me and allow me to help you?" she
suggested. "You see that, although I act as your secretary, dad, I know
nothing of the nature of your business."

"And forgive me for speaking very plainly, child, I do not intend that
you should," the old man said.

"Because you cannot trust me!" she pouted. "You think that because I'm a
woman I cannot keep a secret."

"Not at all," he said. "I place every confidence in you, dear. You are
the only real friend left to me in the whole world. I know that you
would never willingly betray me to my enemies; but----"

"Well, but what?"

"But you might do so unknowingly. You might by one single chance-word
place me within the power of those who seek my downfall."

"Who seeks your downfall, dad?" she asked very seriously.

"That's a matter which I desire to keep to myself. Unfortunately, I do
not know the identity of my enemies; hence I am compelled to keep from
you certain matters which, in other circumstances, you might know. But,"
he added, "this is not the first time we've discussed this question,
Gabrielle dear. You are my daughter, and I trust you. Do not, child,
misjudge me by suspecting that I doubt your loyalty."

"I don't, dad; only sometimes I----"

"Sometimes you think," he said, still stroking her hair--"you think that
I ought to tell you the reason I receive all these reports from Paris,
and their real significance. Well, to tell the truth, dear, it is best
that you should not know. If you reflect for a moment," went on the old
man, tears welling slowly in his filmy, sightless eyes, "you will
realise my unhappy situation--how I am compelled