arriet must be aware of the
effect Santoine's words had on him, but he did not dare look at her now
to see how much she was comprehending. All his attention was needed to
defend himself against Santoine.

"I don't understand." He fought to compose himself.

"It is perfectly plain," Santoine said patiently. "It was believed at
first that I had been fatally hurt; it was even reported at one time--I
understand--that I was dead; only intimate friends have been informed
of my actual condition. Yesterday, for the first time, the newspapers
announced the certainty of my recovery; and to-day an attack is made on
you."

"There has been no opportunity for an attack on me before, if this was
an attack. On the train I was locked up under charge of the conductor."

"You have been off the train nearly a week."

"But I have been kept here in your house."

"You have been allowed to walk about the grounds."

"But I've been watched all the time; no one could have attacked me
without being seen by your guards."

"They did not hesitate to attack you in sight of my daughter."

"But--"

"You are merely challenging my deductions! Will you reply to my
questions?--tell me the connection between us?--who you are?"

"No."

"Come here!"

"What?" said Eaton.

"Come here--close to me, beside the bed."

Eaton hesitated, and then obeyed.

"Bend over!"

Eaton stooped, and the blind man's hands seized him. Instantly Eaton
withdrew.

"Wait!" Santoine warned. "If you do not stay, I shall call help." One
hand went to the bell beside his bed.

Harriet had risen; she met Eaton's gaze warningly and nodded to him to
comply. He bent again over the bed. He felt the blind man's sensitive
fingers searching his features, his head, his throat. Eaton gazed at
Santoine's face while the fingers were examining him; he could see that
Santoine was merely finding confirmation of an impression already
gained from what had been told him about Eaton. Santoine showed
nothing more than this confirmation; certainly he did not recognize
Eaton. More than this, Eaton could not tell.

"Now your hands," Santoine ordered.

Eaton extended one hand and then the other; the blind man felt over
them from wrists to the tips of the fingers; then he let himself sink
back against the pillows, absorbed in thought.

Eaton straightened and looked to Harriet where she was standing at the
foot of the bed; she, however, was intently watching her father and