then at his direction she began to read them aloud.
She read slowly, careful not to demand straining of his attention; and
this slowness leaving her own mind free in part to follow other things,
her thoughts followed Eaton and Avery. As she finished the third page,
he interrupted her.

"Where is it you want to go, Harriet?"

"Go? Why, nowhere, Father!"

"Has Avery taken Eaton to the country-club as I ordered?"

"Yes."

"I shall want you to go out there later in the afternoon; I would trust
your observation more than Avery's to determine whether Eaton has been
used to such surroundings. They are probably at luncheon now; will you
lunch with me here, dear?"

"I'll be very glad to, Father."

He reached for the house telephone and gave directions for the luncheon
in his room.

"Go on until they bring it," he directed.

She read another page, then broke off suddenly.

"Has Donald asked you anything to-day, Father?"

"In regard to what?"

"I thought last night he seemed disturbed about my relieving him of
part of his work."

"Disturbed? In what way?"

She hesitated, unable to define even to herself the impression Avery's
manner had made on her. "I understood he was going to ask you to leave
it still in his hands."

"He has not done so yet."

"Then probably I was mistaken."

She began to read again, and she continued now until the luncheon was
served. At meal-time Basil Santoine made it a rule never to discuss
topics relating to his occupation in working hours, and in his present
weakness, the rule was rigidly enforced; father and daughter talked of
gardening and the new developments in aviation. She read again for
half an hour after luncheon, finishing the pages she had brought.

"Now you'd better go to the club," the blind man directed.

She put the reports and letters away in the safe in the room below, and
going to her own apartments, she dressed carefully for the afternoon.
The day was a warm, sunny, early spring day, with the ground fairly
firm. She ordered her horse and trap, and leaving the groom, she drove
to the country-club beyond the rise of ground back from the lake. Her
pleasure in the drive and the day was diminished by her errand. It
made her grow uncomfortable and flush warmly as she recollected
that--if Eaton's secrecy regarding himself was accounted for by the
unknown injury he had suffered--she was the one sent to "spy" upon him.

As she drove down the road, she passed t