r for a moment and then nodded, and as if as an after-thought added,
"Good morning."

Dorothy passed into her own room. She was a little puzzled. This was
the first morning that John Dene had been there before her.

As she came out with her note-book she looked at him closely, conscious
of something in his manner that was strange, something she could not
altogether define. His voice seemed a little husky, and he lacked the
quick bird-like movements so characteristic of him.

She made no remark, however, merely seating herself in her customary
place and waited for letters.

He drew from his pocket some notes and began to dictate.

Never before had he used notes when dictating. Several times she
glanced at him, and noted that he appeared to be reading from the
manuscript rather than dictating; but she decided that he had probably
written out rough drafts in order to assure accuracy. His voice was
very strange.

"Did you sleep well last night, Mr. Dene?" she enquired during a pause
in the dictation.

"Sleep well," he repeated, looking up at her, "I always sleep well."

Dorothy was startled. There was something in the glance and the
brusque tone that puzzled her. Both were so unlike John Dene. She had
mentally decided that he spoke to her as he spoke to no one else. She
had compared his inflection when addressing her with that he adopted to
others, even so important a person as Sir Bridgman North. Now he spoke
gruffly, as if he were irritated at being spoken to.

Apparently he sensed what was passing through her mind, for he turned
to her again and said:

"I'm not feeling very well this morning, Miss West, I----" Then he
hesitated.

"Perhaps you didn't sleep very well," she suggested mischievously.

"No, I'm afraid that's what it was," he acknowledged Dorothy's eyes
opened just a little in surprise. A minute ago he had stated that he
always slept well. Either John Dene was mad or ill; and Dorothy
continued to take down, greatly puzzled. Had he been drugged? The
thought caused her to pause in her work and glance up at him. He
certainly seemed vague and uncertain, and then he looked so strange.

When he had dictated for about half an hour, John Dene handed her a
large number of documents to copy, telling her that there would not be
any more letters that day. To her surprise he picked up his hat and
announced that he would not be back until five o'clock to sign the
letters. Never before had he