nd?"

Elizabeth turned her face to him, and a pair of startled eyes that tried
not to waver.

"Of course, Mr. Arthur," she said smiling. "Have I been doing anything
dreadful?"

"May I ask what you personally know of this Mr. Anderson?"

He saw--or thought he saw--her brace herself under the sudden surprise
of the name, and her momentary discomfiture pleased him.

"What I know of Mr. Anderson?" she repeated wondering. "Why, no more
than we all know. What do you mean, Mr. Arthur? Ah, yes, I remember, you
first met him in Winnipeg; _we_ made acquaintance with him the
day before."

"For the first time? But you are now seeing a great deal of him. Are you
quite sure--forgive me if I seem impertinent--that he is--quite the
person to be admitted to your daily companionship?"

He spoke slowly and harshly. The effort required before a naturally
amiable and nervous man could bring himself to put such an
uncomfortable question made it appear particularly offensive.

"Our daily companionship?" repeated Elizabeth in bewilderment. "What can
you mean, Mr. Arthur? What is wrong with Mr. Anderson? You saw that
everybody at Winnipeg seemed to know him and respect him; people like
the Chief Justice, and the Senator--what was his name?--and Monsieur
Mariette. I don't understand why you ask me such a thing. Why should we
suppose there are any mysteries about Mr. Anderson?"

Unconsciously her slight figure had stiffened, her voice had changed.

Delaine felt an admonitory qualm. He would have drawn back; but it was
too late. He went on doggedly--

"Were not all these persons you named acquainted with Mr. Anderson in
his public capacity? His success in the strike of last year brought him
a great notoriety. But his private history--his family and
antecedents--have you gathered anything at all about them?"

Something that he could not decipher flashed through Elizabeth's
expression. It was a strange and thrilling sense that what she had
gathered she would not reveal for--a kingdom!

"Monsieur Mariette told me all that anyone need want to know!" she
cried, breathing quick. "Ask him what he thinks--what he feels! But if
you ask _me_, I think Mr. Anderson carries his history in his face."

Delaine pondered a moment, while Elizabeth waited, challenging,
expectant, her brown eyes all vivacity.

"Well--some facts have come to my knowledge," he said, at last, "which
have made me ask you these questions. My only object--you must, you wi