ld not instantly answer it. Was it
true or false? Did he really love little Lois and had he still an
intention to marry her? Alban had never looked the situation straight in
the face until this moment.

"I never tell secrets," he exclaimed a little lamely, and turning upon
his heel, he shut his ears to the hard laugh which greeted him and went
on, as a man in a dream, to old Boriskoff's garret. A lamp stood in the
window there and the tap of a light hammer informed him that the
indefatigable Pole was still at work. In truth, old Paul was bending
copper tubing--for a firm which said that he had no equal at the task
and paid him a wage which would have been despised by a
crossing-sweeper.

Alban entered the garret quietly and was a little startled by the sharp
exclamation which greeted him. He knew nothing, of course, of the part
this crafty Pole had played or what his own change of circumstance owed
to him. To Alban, Paul Boriskoff was just the same mad revolutionary as
before--at once fanatic and dreamer and, before then, the father of Lois
who had loved him. If the old fellow had no great welcome for the young
Englishman to-night, let that be set down to his sense of neglect and,
in some measure, to his daughter's absence.

"Good evening, Mr. Boriskoff, you are working very late to-night."

Alban stood irresolute at the door, watching the quick movements of the
shaggy brows and wondered what had happened to old Paul that he should
be received so coolly. Had he known what was in the Pole's mind he would
have as soon have jumped off London Bridge as have braved the anger of
one who judged him so mercilessly in that hour. For Boriskoff had heard
the stories which Hampstead had to tell, and he had said, "He will ruin
Lois' life and I have put the power to do so in his hands."

"The poor do not choose their hours, Alban Kennedy. Sit down, if you
please, and talk to me. I have much to say to you."

He did not rise from his chair, but indicated a rude seat in the corner
by the chimney and waited until his unwilling guest had taken it. Alban
judged that his own altered appearance and his absence from Union Street
must be the cause of his displeasure. He could guess no other reason.

"Do you love my daughter, Alban Kennedy?"

"You know that I do, Paul. Have we not always been good friends? I came
to tell you about a piece of great good fortune which has happened to me
and to find out why Lois had not written to me. You