It was not often that Nora Harrigan was subjected
to a touch of vertigo, but at this moment she felt that if she stirred
ever so little she must fall. The stock whence she had sprung, however,
was aggressive and fearless; and by the time Courtlandt had reached the
outer markings of the courts, Nora was physically herself again. The
advantage of the meeting would be his. That was indubitable. Any mistake
on her part would be playing into his hands. If only she had known!

"Let us go and meet them, Padre," she said quietly. With her father, her
mother and the others, the inevitable introduction would be shorn of its
danger. What Celeste might think was of no great importance; Celeste had
been tried and her loyalty proven. Where had her father met him, and what
diabolical stroke of fate had made him bring this man up here?

"Nora!" It was her mother calling.

She put her arm through the padre's, and they went forward leisurely.

"Why, father, I thought you weren't coming," said Nora. Her voice was
without a tremor.

The padre hadn't the least idea that a volcano might at any moment open up
at his side. He smiled benignly.

"Changed my mind," said Harrigan. "Nora, Molly, I want you to meet Mr.
Courtlandt. I don't know that I ever said anything about it, but his
father was one of the best friends I ever had. He was on his way up here,
so I came along with him." Then Harrigan paused and looked about him
embarrassedly. There were half a dozen unfamiliar faces.

The colonel quickly stepped into the breach, and the introduction of
Courtlandt became general. Nora bowed, and became at once engaged in an
animated conversation with the Barone, who had just finished his set
victoriously.

The padre's benign smile slowly faded.

CHAPTER XII

DICK COURTLANDT'S BOY

Presently the servants brought out the tea-service. The silent
dark-skinned Sikh, with his fierce curling whiskers, his flashing eyes,
the semi-military, semi-oriental garb, topped by an enormous brown turban,
claimed Courtlandt's attention; and it may be added that he was glad to
have something to look at unembarrassedly. He wanted to catch the Indian's
eye, but Rao had no glances to waste; he was concerned with the immediate
business of superintending the service.

Courtlandt had never been a man to surrender to impulse. It had been his
habit to form a purpose and then to go about the fulfilling of it. During
the last four or five months, however, he