he least."

"I did not know--I did not think," gasped Mrs. Pendleton. She endeavoured
to commence a flurried explanation of the mixed motives and impulses which
had swayed her since her brother's death, but Barrant cut it short with an
impatient wave of the hand.

"Never mind that now," he said. "I have lost too much time already. Have
you no idea where your niece is likely to have sought refuge?"

Mrs. Pendleton shook her head. "Robert had no friends," she said, "and
Sisily led a very lonely life. Robert told me that yesterday. That was the
reason he wanted me to take charge of her--so as to give her the
opportunity of making some girl friends of her own age."

She paused, embarrassed by the recollection that her brother's real
intention in placing Sisily in her charge was altogether different.
Barrant noted her hesitation, and interpreted it aright.

"No," he said. "The real reason of your brother parting with his daughter
provides the motive for her return to his house last night. What happened
between them is a matter for conjecture, at present. Apparently she was
the last person who saw him alive before he was shot, and now she is not
to be found."

There was something so portentously solemn in his manner of speaking these
last words that his listener quaked in terror, and gazed at him with
widened eyes. Barrant turned abruptly to another phase.

"Are you quite sure that it was the man-servant you saw looking through
the door yesterday afternoon?"

It was proof of the fallibility of human testimony that Mrs. Pendleton had
sincerely convinced herself that she was quite sure. "Yes," she said.

Barrant looked doubtful. By reason of his calling he was well aware of the
human tendency to unintentional mistake in identity. With women
especially, the jump from an impression to a conclusion was sometimes as
rapid as the thought itself.

"Did you see his face?" he asked.

"Only the eyes. But I am sure that they were Thalassa's eyes."

Barrant did not press the point. He did not doubt the honesty of her
belief, but the words in which it was conveyed suggested hasty impression
rather than conviction. Such proofs! of identity were not to be relied
upon.

"Had your brother's servant any reason, so far as you know, to be
listening at the door?" he asked.

"All servants are curious," murmured Mrs. Pendleton. She shook her head
wisely, as one intimating a wide knowledge of their class.

"All curious servants are