h we, his descendants,
can never be sufficiently grateful."

Hamel praised his wine, as indeed he had every reason to, but for a
few moments the smooth conversation of his host fell upon deaf ears. He
looked from the boy's face, pale and wrinkled as though with some sort
of suppressed pain, to the girl's still, stony expression. This was
indeed a house of mysteries! There was something here incomprehensible,
some thing about the relations of these three and their knowledge of one
another, utterly baffling. It was the queerest household, surely, into
which any stranger had ever been precipitated.

"The planting of trees and the laying down of port are two virtues in
our ancestors which have never been properly appreciated," Mr. Fentolin
continued. "Let us, at any rate, free ourselves from the reproach of
ingratitude so far as regards my grandfather--Gerald Fentolin--to whom I
believe we are indebted for this wine. We will drink--"

Mr. Fentolin broke off in the middle of his sentence. The august calm of
the great house had been suddenly broken. From up-stairs came the tumult
of raised voices, the slamming of a door, the falling of something
heavy upon the floor. Mr. Fentolin listened with a grim change in his
expression. His smile had departed, his lower lip was thrust out, his
eyebrows met. He raised the little whistle which hung from his chain. At
that moment, however, the door was opened. Doctor Sarson appeared.

"I am sorry to disturb you, Mr. Fentolin," he said, "but our patient is
becoming a little difficult. The concussion has left him, as I feared it
might, in a state of nervous excitability. He insists upon an interview
with you."

Mr. Fentolin backed his little chair from the table. The doctor came
over and laid his hand upon the handle.

"You will, I am sure, excuse me for a few moments, Mr. Hamel," his host
begged. "My niece and nephew will do their best to entertain you. Now,
Sarson, I am ready."

Mr. Fentolin glided across the dim, empty spaces of the splendid
apartment, followed by the doctor; a ghostly little procession it
seemed. The door was closed behind them. For a few moments a curious
silence ensued. Gerald remained tense and apparently suffering from
some sort of suppressed emotion. Esther for the first time moved in her
place. She leaned towards Hamel. Her lips were slowly parted, her
eyes sought the door as though in terror. Her voice, although save for
themselves there was no one else in