h his father's wishes. He urged her to
agree to a quiet wedding at the earliest possible date, and pointed
out that a prompt announcement of their pact would stifle any
opposition on Hilton's part.

Evidently he took it for granted that if Barkis was willing, Peggotty
had no option in the matter. He forgot to mention such a trivial
element as love. Their marriage had been planned by the arbiter of
their destinies, and who were they that they should gainsay that
august decision? Why, his father's death had made it a duty that they
owed to a sacred memory!

Though Sylvia's experience of the world was slight, and knowledge of
her fellow creatures rather less, Cousin Robert's eagerness, as
compared with his deficiencies as a wooer, warned her that some hidden
but powerful motive was egging him on now. She tried to temporize, but
the more she eluded him the more insistent he became.

At last, she spoke plainly, and with some heat.

"If you press for my answer today it is 'No,'" she said, and a wave of
color flooded her pale cheeks. "I think you can hardly have considered
your actions. It is monstrous to talk of marriage when my uncle has
only been dead a few hours. I refuse to listen to another word."

Perforce, Robert had left it at that. He had the sense to bottle up
his anger, at any rate in her hearing; perhaps he reflected that the
breaking of the ice would facilitate the subsequent plunge.

Far more disturbed in spirit than her dignified repulse of Fenley had
shown, Sylvia reentered the house, passing the odd-looking little
detective as she crossed the hall. She took refuge in her own suite,
but determined forthwith to go out of doors again and seek shelter
among her beloved trees. Through a window, as her rooms faced south,
she saw Robert Fenley pacing moodily in the garden, where he was
presently joined by the detective.

Apparently, Fenley was as ungracious and surly of manner as he knew
how to be, but Furneaux continued to chat with careless affability;
soon the two walked off in the direction of the lake. That was
Sylvia's chance. She ran downstairs and was at the door when a footman
came and said that Mrs. Bates wanted her on the telephone.

At first she was astounded by Trenholme's message. Then sheer
irritation at the crassness of things, and perhaps some spice of
feminine curiosity, led her to give the order which opened the gates
of Roxton Park to a man she had never seen.

The two met a few hundre