r had said, something awful, which had caused her
father to wear the troubled look which had terrified her the moment he
came in.

Something awful!--which would affect Luke!

"Won't you tell us, father," she said, "what Uncle Ryder told you?
Luke ought to know."

"Oh," rejoined Luke, "there's no hurry I'm sure. Colonel Harris will
tell me presently. Lou, you were coming to the park this morning. I
suppose we can't go to the Temple Garden Show very well."

"Not very well, I think," she replied, "but I'll come for a walk after
lunch with pleasure. Father must tell us now what Uncle Ryder said."

Then as Colonel Harris still seemed to hesitate, she became more
insistent, and her voice more firm.

"Father dear," she said, "I must know as well as Luke."

The old man took a turn up and down the room, with hands behind his
back. He would not look either at Louisa or at Luke, for it would be
easier to tell them everything without meeting their eyes. And he had
to tell them everything. To her as well as to him. It was no longer
any use trying to avoid the subject, pretending that it was trivial,
unworthy of discussion.

Facts had to be faced at last, like the dervishes at Omdurman, and a
plan of campaign decided on in the event of momentary defeat.

"Ryder," he began quite abruptly at last, "had the hall porter of
that confounded club up to his room while I was there, and questioned
him before me."

"He could," suggested Luke, "only repeat the story which we all know
already. I never denied seeing Philip at the club or quarrelling with
him for a matter of that. Hang it all! I have often quarrelled with
him before."

"Yes," rejoined the colonel, "they've ferreted out the old servants of
your uncle's household, and heard innumerable stories of quarrels."

"Exaggerated, I expect. But what of it?"

"And that hall porter didn't mince matters either. Damn him."

"Philip," remarked Luke dryly, "shouted pretty loudly. I did not."

"The porter said that when you left the club you had 'murder in your
eye.'"

"Possibly."

"You had overheard Philip's last remark to the porter?"

"Yes--something about pestering beggars. I was ready to make him
swallow his words, but I loathe a scene, before people like those who
frequent the Veterans' Club."

"I wish to goodness you had gone for him then and there."

"Why?"

"This accursed business would not have occurred."

"Oh, yes it would--sooner or later."

"What makes you