ed steps he rang
the doorbell stoutly. A prim maid in cap and diminutive apron, a recent
addition to the household, answered his ring.

"I'd like to see Miss Baker, if you please," said Ben.

The girl inspected the visitor critically. Beneath her surface decorum
he had a suspicion that she was inclined to smile.

"I hardly think Miss Baker is up yet," she announced at last. "Will you
leave your card?"

Ben looked at the sun, now well elevated in the sky, with an eye trained
in the estimate of time. He drew mental conclusions silently.

"No," he said. "I will call later."

He did call later,--two hours later,--to receive from Scotty himself the
intelligence that Florence was out but would soon return. Evidently the
Englishman had been instructed; for, though he added an invitation to
wait, it was only half-hearted, and being declined the matter was not
pressed.

Ben returned to the hotel, ate his lunch, and considered the situation.
A lesser man would have given up the fight and hidden his bruise; but
Benjamin Blair was in no sense of the word a little man. He had come to
town with definite intent of seeing a certain girl alone, and see her
alone he would. At four o'clock in the afternoon he again pressed the
button on the Baker door-post, and again waited.

Again it was the maid who answered, and at the expected query she smiled
outright. It seemed to her a capital joke that she was assisting in
playing upon this man of unusual attire.

"Miss Baker is engaged," she announced, with the glibness of previous
preparation.

To her surprise the visitor did not depart. Instead, he gave her a look
which sent her mirth glimmering.

"Very well," he said. The door leading into the vestibule and from
thence into the library was open, and without form of invitation he
entered. "Tell her, please, that I will wait until she is not engaged."

The girl hesitated. This particular exigency had not been anticipated.

"Shall I give her a name?" she suggested, with an attempt at formality.

Ben Blair did not turn. "Tell her what I said."

He chose a chair facing the entrance and sat down. Departing on her
mission, he heard the maid open another door on the same floor. There
was for a moment a murmur of feminine voices, one of which he
recognized; then silence again, as the door closed.

A half-hour passed, lengthened into an hour, all but repeated itself,
and still apparently Florence was engaged; and still the visitor sat