after a moment's gloomy contemplation of his
daughter's face:

"You are better today, the doctor says,--I have just been telephoning
to him. But do you feel well enough for me to leave you for a few days?
There is a man I must see--must go to, if you have no dread of being
left alone with your good nurse and the doctor's constant attendance."

Miss Grey looked startled. Doubtless she found it difficult to
understand what man in this strange country could interest her father
enough to induce him to leave her while he was yet laboring under such
solicitude. But a smile speedily took the place of her look of surprised
inquiry and she affectionately exclaimed:

"Oh, I haven't the least dread in the world, not now. See, I can hold up
my arms. Go, papa, go; it will give me a chance to surprise you with my
good looks when you come back."

He turned abruptly away. He was suffering from an emotion deeper than he
cared to acknowledge. But he gained control over himself speedily and,
coming back, announced with forced decision:

"I shall have to go to-night. I have no choice. Promise me that you will
not go back in my absence; that you will strive to get well; that you
will put all your mind into striving to get well."

"Indeed, I will," she answered, a little frightened by the feeling he
showed. "Don't worry so much. I have more than one reason for living,
papa."

He shook his head and went immediately to make his preparations for
departure. His daughter gave one sob, then caught me by the hand.

"You look dumfounded," said she. "But never mind, we shall get on very
well together. I have the most perfect confidence in you."

Was it my duty to let the inspector know that Mr. Grey anticipated
absenting himself from the city for a few days? I decided that I would
only be impressing my own doubts upon him after a rebuke which should
have allayed them.

Yet, when Mr. Grey came to take his departure I wished that the
inspector might have been a witness to his emotion, if only to give me
one of his very excellent explanations. The parting was more like that
of one who sees no immediate promise of return than of a traveler who
intends to limit his stay to a few days. He looked her in the eyes and
kissed her a dozen times, each time with an air of heartbreak which was
good neither for her nor for himself, and when he finally tore himself
away it was to look back at her from the door with an expression I was
glad she did not s