t. Her hands were not large, but they
had ample spread and were under perfect control. There was power in
the poise of her head and in the rhythmic swaying of her body, but her
playing was curiously unfeminine. There was no touch of girlish grace,
of sentiment, in her performance, and with a sudden enlightenment
Serviss inwardly exclaimed: "Aha! A clerical Svengali! This musical
preacher has trained his pupil till she plays as _he_ would play if he
had the digital facility. It's all fine, but it is not the girl," and
the question of their relationship again engaged him.

[Illustration: "SERVISS LISTENED WITH GROWING AMAZEMENT"]

When the final stormy note was still, Viola remained on her stool, as
though waiting for her critic to applaud.

Serviss broke the silence by exclaiming: "See here, you people are
making game of me. You are both professionals in disguise. Come now,
'fess up," he challenged Clarke. "You are Senor Del Corte, barytone of
the Salt-Air Opera Company; and you, Miss Lambert, belong to the Arion
Ladies' Orchestra. I have found you both out!"

The girl smiled with pleasure, but Clarke remained so unassailably
serious that Serviss was moved to further deeps of audacity. "Don't
tell me you are a comedian, also! You certainly have me guessing. Who
are you, really?"

Clarke answered, resentfully: "I am the pastor of the Presbyterian
church in this village, as Miss Lambert has told you, and she is my
organist."

Again that thump three times repeated sounded upon the door. Serviss,
baffled and silenced by Clarke's impenetrable gravity, and by
something inexplicably submissive, yet watchful, in the face of the
girl, felt himself confronted by an intangible, sinister, and
inescapable influence. The young clergyman seemed to darken and
oppress both women. It was as if they were all leagued in a conspiracy
to deceive and cajole. This bewilderment lasted but a moment, and he
rose from his chair with a spring. "Well, now, play something
else--give us a bit of rag-time; that last piece has left us all a
little dashed--try a cake-walk."

Clarke interposed. "Miss Lambert does not play those trashy melodies.
I consider them essentially irreligious."

Serviss resented the preacher's tone, but quickly answered: "They're
not exactly reverent, I'll admit; but without them American music
would be but a poor reflection of the German."

As if to save his reputation the preacher sang "The Palms," and sang
it magn