you must absolutely deny yourself the
pleasurable excitement of Mr. Grant's company."

"You are carrying a warning to its extreme limit."

"Exactly."

"And am I to keep this knowledge to myself?"

"In whom would you confide?"

"My father, of course."

"I know you better," and the detective's voice took on a profoundly
serious note. "Your father would never admit that what he knows to be
true of bees is equally true of humanity. You can trust the police to
keep a pretty sharp eye on Siddle, of course, but the present is a
strenuous period, both for us and for people with maniacal tendencies, so
accidents may happen."

"You have distressed me immeasurably," said the girl, striving to pierce
the mask of that inscrutable face.

"I meant to," answered Furneaux quietly. "No half measures for me.
I've looked up the asylum record of Mrs. Siddle, senior, and it's not
nice reading."

"There was a Mrs. Siddle, junior, then?"

"A Mrs. Theodore Siddle, if one adopts the conventional usage. Yes. She
died last month."

"Last month!" gasped Doris, feeling vaguely that she was moving in a maze
of deceit and subterfuge.

"On May 25th, to be precise. She lived apart from her husband. I have
reason to believe she feared him."

"Yet--"

She hesitated, hardly able to put her jumbled thoughts into words.

"Yes. That's so," said the detective instantly. "Never mind. It's a
fairly decent world, taken _en bloc_. I ought to speak with authority. I
see enough of the seamy side of it, goodness knows. Now, forewarned is
forearmed. Don't be nervous. Don't take risks. Everything will come right
in time. Remember, I'm not far away in an emergency. Should I chance to
be absent if you need advice, send for Mr. Franklin. You can easily
devise some official excuse, a mislaid letter, or an error in a
telegram."

"I think I shall feel confident if both of you are near," and the ghost
of a smile lit Doris's wan features.

"We're a marvelous combination," grinned Furneaux, reverting at once to
his normal impishness. "I am all brain; he is all muscle. Such an
alliance prevails against the ungodly."

"Is Mr. Grant in any danger?" inquired Doris suddenly.

"No."

The two looked into each other's eyes. Doris was eager to ask a question,
which Furneaux dared her to put. The detective won. She sighed.

"Very well," she said. "I'm to behave. Am I to regard myself as a
decoy duck?"

"A duck, anyhow."

She laughed lightly. Furneaux wou