wo in your own room. It is a principle of mine
not to trust even the ears of the deaf with what it is desirable to keep
secret."

Had the glance with which he said this lingered a moment longer on his
companion's face, he would undoubtedly have been startled at the effect
of his own words. But being at heart a compassionate man, or possibly
understanding his new client much better than that client supposed, he
had turned quite away in crossing the threshold, and so missed the
conscious flash which for a moment replaced the somber and feverish
expression that had already aged by ten years the formerly open features
of this deeply grieved man.

Once in the hall, it was too dark to note further niceties of expression,
and by the time Mr. Ransom's room was reached, purpose and purpose only
remained visible in either face.

As they were crossing the threshold, the lawyer wheeled about and cast a
quick look behind him.

"I observe," said he, "that you have a full and unobstructed view from
here of the whole hall and of the two doors where our interest is
centered. I presume you kept a strict watch on both last night. You let
nothing escape you?"

"Nothing that one could see from this room."

With a thoughtful air, the lawyer swung to the door behind them. As it
latched, the face of Mr. Ransom sharpened. He even put out a hand and
rested it on a table standing near, as if to support himself in
anticipation of what the lawyer would say now that they were again
closeted together.

Mr. Harper was not without his reasons for a corresponding agitation, but
he naturally controlled himself better, and it was with almost a judicial
air that he made this long-expected but long-deferred suggestion:

"You had better tell me now, and as explicitly as possible, just what is
in your mind. It will prevent all misunderstanding between us, as well as
any injudicious move on my part."

Mr. Ransom hesitated, leaning hard on the table; then, with a sudden
burst, he exclaimed:

"It sounds like folly, and you may think that my troubles have driven me
mad. But I have a feeling here--a feeling without any reason or proof to
back it--that the woman now sleeping off her exhaustion in Anitra's room
is the woman I courted and married--Georgian Hazen, now Georgian Ransom,
my wife."

"Good! I have made no mistake. That is my thought, too," responded the
lawyer.

CHAPTER XV

ANITRA

A few minutes later they were discussing this a