thout deigning to look up from the papers he was scanning, "I offered
you my friendship, but you refused it."

"Friendship!" she cried, in sarcasm. "Your friendship, Mr. Flockart!
What, pray, is it worth? You surely know what people are saying--the
construction they are placing upon your friendship for Lady Heyburn?"

"The misconstruction, you mean," he exclaimed airily, correcting her.
"Well, to me it matters not a single jot. The world is always
ill-disposed and ill-natured. A woman can surely have a male friend
without being subject to hostile and venomous criticism?"

"When the male friend is an honest man," said the girl meaningly.

He shrugged his shoulders and continued reading, as though utterly
disregarding her presence.

What should she do? How should she act? She knew quite well that from
those papers he could gather no knowledge of her father's affairs,
unless he held some secret knowledge of the true meaning of those
cryptic terms and allusions. To her they were all as Hebrew.

Only that very day Monsieur Goslin had again made one of those
unexpected visits, remaining from eleven in the morning until three;
afterwards taking his leave, and driving back in the car to Auchterarder
Station. She had not seen him; but he had brought from Paris for her a
big box of chocolates tied with violet ribbons, as had been his habit
for quite a couple of years past. She was a particular favourite with
the polite, middle-aged Frenchman.

Her father's demeanour was always more thoughtful and serious after the
stranger's visits. Business matters put before him by his visitor
always, it seemed, required much deep thought and ample consideration.

Some papers brought to her father by Goslin she had placed in the safe
earlier that evening, and these, she recognised, were now in Flockart's
hands. She had not read them herself, and had no idea of their contents.
They were, to her, never interesting.

"Mr. Flockart," she exclaimed very firmly at last, "I ask you to kindly
replace those papers in my father's safe, relock it, and hand me the
key."

"That I certainly refuse to do," was the man's defiant reply, bowing as
he spoke.

"You would prefer, then, that I should go up to my father and explain
all I have seen?"

"I repeat what I have already said. You are perfectly at liberty to tell
whom you like. It makes no difference whatever to me. And, well, I don't
want to be disturbed just now." Rising, he walked across to