own wild appeal to him;
for she did not believe that that alone would suffice to keep him away.
But it was all of no avail.

Another source of anxiety for her lay in the fact that she had also not
heard from her father since Tuesday morning. She did not know whether he
had left Mrs. Gunn's house or not, and did not like to risk the sending
of a letter. That he trusted far too much to his disguise Cynthia was
well aware. His rashness made her sometimes quiver all over with
positive fright when she thought of it. He was running a terrible
risk--and for what cause? At first, simply because he wanted to see his
daughter; now because he fancied that he had found a clue to the
murderer of Sydney Vane--a slight, faint, elusive clue, but one which
seemed to him worth following up. And Cynthia, who at first had
hesitated to leave England, would now have been glad to start with him
at once, if only she could get him away. She began to fear that he would
stay at any risk.

"You are losing your beauty, child," Madame della Scala had
discontentedly said to her that morning at breakfast-time; "you have
grown ten years older in the last week. And it is the height of the
season, and you have dozens of engagements! To-night, now, you sing at
Lady Beauclerc's--do you not?"

"Yes, Madame; but I shall be all right by that time. I have a headache
this morning."

"You are too white, child, and your eyes are heavy. It does not suit
your style to be colorless. You had better get my maid to attend to you,
before you go out to-night. She is incomparable at complexions."

"Thank you--I shall not need rouge when I begin to sing," said Cynthia,
laughing rather joylessly; "the color will come of itself."

"I know one who always used to bring it," said Madame, casting a sharp
glance at the girl's pale face. "He had it in his pocket, I suppose, or
at the tips of his fingers--and I never saw it fail with you. Where is
the magician gone, Cynthia _mia_? Where is Mr. Lepel--_ce bel homme_ who
brought the rouge in his pocket? Why, the very mention of his name does
wonders! The beautiful red color is back again now!"

"I do not know where Mr. Lepel is," said Cynthia, wishing heartily that
her cheeks would not betray her.

"You have not quarrelled?"

"I do not know, Madame."

"Ah, then, you have! But you are a very silly child, and ought to know
better after all that you have gone through. Quarrelling with Mr. Lepel
means quarrelling with your b