st genial; but Gifford was not the man to be deceived by that outward
seeming. Henshaw bowed and took the chair the other indicated. There was
a short pause as though each waited for the other to begin. In the end it
was Gifford who spoke first.

"I should like to come to an understanding with you, Mr. Henshaw, with
regard to a very serious annoyance, not to say persecution, to which Miss
Morriston has been subjected at your hands." Henshaw drew back his thin
lips in a smile. "I have to tell you," Gifford continued, "once and for
all that it must cease."

"Miss Morriston authorizes you to tell me that?" The question was put
with something like a sneer.

"I should hope it requires no authority," Gifford retorted. "Having
cognizance of what has been going on, it is my plain duty--"

"Why yours?" Henshaw interrupted coolly.

"For a very good reason," Gifford replied; "one which I may have to tell
you presently."

He saw Henshaw flush and dart a glance of hate at him. It was plain he
had misinterpreted the reply. But the exhibition was only momentary.

"Admitting in the meantime your right to interfere," Henshaw said, now
with perfect coolness, "allow me to tell you that you are taking a very
foolish course."

"I shall be glad to know how."

"The reason is, that if you have any regard, as you suggest, for Miss
Morriston, you are going the right way to do her a terrible injury."

Gifford rose and stood by the fire-place. "To come to the point at once
without further preliminary fencing," he said quietly, "you mean, I take
it, that I am forcing you to denounce her as being guilty of your
brother's death."

For an instant Henshaw seemed taken aback by the other's directness.
"There can be no doubt, holding the evidence I do, that she was guilty of
it," he retorted uncompromisingly.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Henshaw," Gifford objected with decision, "there
can be, and is, a very great deal more than a doubt of it."

Henshaw shot a searching glance at the man who spoke so confidently, as
though trying to probe what, if anything, was behind his words.

"Perhaps you know then," he returned with his sneering smile, "how
otherwise, if the lady had no hand in it, my brother came by his death?"

"I do," was the quiet answer.

"Then," still the smile of sneering incredulity, "it is clearly your duty
to make it known."

"Clearly," Gifford assented in a calm tone. "That is why I asked you to
come here this afternoon."