n intervened. "The gentleman wasn't a visitor, Johnson,"
she said, a sharp note in her voice, almost an agonized note. "You ought
to explain to Mr. Sands that he came only to bring Miss Riley home."
Then she hurried on, snatching the explanation from the servant's mouth,
though she had ordered him to make it: "The poor child came back quite
done up, nearly fainting. She had to be helped in, almost carried. The
man stayed just long enough to hear that she was better. Is it Miss
Blackburne you've been lucky enough to find, and bring back to me?"

All this rushed out in a breath. The lovely lady in white and silver
smiled at the small person in brown pongee. But Roger Sands was not a
man easy to play with.

"Yes, it is Miss Blackburne," he quietly answered. "What was the
gentleman's name, Johnson? Did you hear it?"

There was a trifling pause while the servant replied. Mrs. Sands was
still faintly smiling, a mechanical smile, and her eyes were suddenly
dull as glass.

"Yes, sir, I believe I heard the name mentioned," Johnson admitted. "I
thought it was the same as the young lady's; Riley or O'Riley. As Mrs.
Sands remarks, sir, he wasn't exactly calling, so the name wasn't
announced. It only reached my ears."

Roger looked straight at Beverley. The gaze was a challenge. "Was it
Justin O'Reilly who came?" he inquired; and his eyes said: "if your
conscience is clean, you'll understand that I'm not trying to extract
any confession. I give you the chance to clear yourself, here and now,
that's all."

But Beverley's face was flooded with one of her painful blushes, that
always came when she wanted them least. She realized, too late, that
Roger had enquired of Johnson because he suspected, perhaps even knew,
that O'Reilly had been in the house.

"Yes, it was Justin O'Reilly who came and stopped about ten minutes,"
she answered, trying to keep her voice as calm as Roger's. "But this
isn't very interesting to Miss Blackburne. It was good of her to give up
her Sunday evening! Shall we----"

"Just a moment, please," Roger broke in, still in that deadly quiet
voice which, it seemed, could betray nothing to a stranger, but for
Beverley was a knife at her heart. "I must go out presently. Before
starting to dress I should like to hear the latest news about your
protegee. She looked all right, and not inclined to faint, when I saw
her tripping into the house, just before I came in from my walk some
time ago. By the by I think Mr