tement in the girl's voice was akin
to anguish. The steely look came over the swarthy face again; but there
was tenderness and courtesy in both voice and manner as he replied:

"Believe me, I would do anything I honestly could to relieve you
anxiety. But in this I have a higher duty."

"What duty?"

"Silence!" As he spoke the word, the strong mouth closed like a steel
trap.

We all remained silent for a few minutes. In the intensity of our
thinking, the silence became a positive thing; the small sounds of life
within and without the house seemed intrusive. The first to break it
was Miss Trelawny. I had seen an idea--a hope--flash in her eyes; but
she steadied herself before speaking:

"What was the urgent subject on which you wanted to see me, knowing
that my Father was--not available?" The pause showed her mastery of
her thoughts.

The instantaneous change in Mr. Corbeck was almost ludicrous. His
start of surprise, coming close upon his iron-clad impassiveness, was
like a pantomimic change. But all idea of comedy was swept away by the
tragic earnestness with which he remembered his original purpose.

"My God!" he said, as he raised his hand from the chair back on which
it rested, and beat it down with a violence which would in itself have
arrested attention. His brows corrugated as he went on: "I quite
forgot! What a loss! Now of all times! Just at the moment of
success! He lying there helpless, and my tongue tied! Not able to
raise hand or foot in my ignorance of his wishes!"

"What is it? Oh, do tell us! I am so anxious about my dear Father!
Is it any new trouble? I hope not! oh, I hope not! I have had such
anxiety and trouble already! It alarms me afresh to hear you speak so!
Won't you tell me something to allay this terrible anxiety and
uncertainty?"

He drew his sturdy form up to his full height as he said:

"Alas! I cannot, may not, tell you anything. It is his secret." He
pointed to the bed. "And yet--and yet I came here for his advice, his
counsel, his assistance. And he lies there helpless.... And time is
flying by us! It may soon be too late!"

"What is it? what is it?" broke in Miss Trelawny in a sort of passion
of anxiety, her face drawn with pain. "Oh, speak! Say something!
This anxiety, and horror, and mystery are killing me!" Mr. Corbeck
calmed himself by a great effort.

"I may not tell you details; but I have had a great loss. My mission,
in which I have spen