d in
a dressing gown. She smiled brightly at Ruth and wanly at John Mark,
then started at the sight of the stranger.

"This," said John Mark, "is Ronicky Doone."

The Westerner rose and bowed.

"He has come," said John Mark, "to try to persuade you to go out for a
stroll with him, so that he can talk to you about that curious fellow,
Bill Gregg. He is going to try to soften your heart, I believe, by
telling you all the inconveniences which Bill Gregg has endured to
find you here. But he will do his talking for himself. Just why he has
to take you out of the house, at night, before he can talk to you is,
I admit, a mystery to me. But let him do the persuading."

Ronicky Doone turned to his host, a cold gleam in his eyes. His case
had been presented in such a way as to make his task of persuasion
almost impossible. Then he turned back and looked at the girl. Her
face was a little pale, he thought, but perfectly composed.

"I don't know Bill Gregg," she said simply. "Of course, I'm glad to
talk to you, Mr. Doone, but why not here?"

John Mark covered a smile of satisfaction, and the girl looked at him,
apparently to see if she had spoken correctly. It was obvious that the
leader was pleased, and she glanced back at Ronicky, with a flush of
pleasure.

"I'll tell you why I can't talk to you in here," said Ronicky gently.
"Because, while you're under the same roof with this gent with the
sneer"--he turned and indicated Mark, sneering himself as he did
so--"you're not yourself. You don't have a halfway chance to think for
yourself. You feel him around you and behind you and beside you
every minute, and you keep wondering not what you really feel about
anything, but what John Mark wants you to feel. Ain't that the
straight of it?"

She glanced apprehensively at John Mark, and, seeing that he did not
move to resent this assertion, she looked again with wide-eyed wonder
at Ronicky Doone.

"You see," said the man of the sneer to Caroline Smith, "that our
friend from the West has a child-like faith in my powers of--what
shall I say--hypnotism!"

A faint smile of agreement flickered on her lips and went out. Then
she regarded Ronicky, with an utter lack of emotion.

"If I could talk like him," said Ronicky Doone gravely, "I sure
wouldn't care where I had to do the talking; but I haven't any smooth
lingo--I ain't got a lot of words all ready and handy. I'm a pretty
simple-minded sort of a gent, Miss Smith. That's why I