aw in the girl's smile no genuine response to the light
badinage, and he knew that her serenity was troubled, her careless
composure forced.

Later, he contrived to say good-night to her alone, and gave her a
chance to speak; but she only murmured her adieux and went slowly away
up the stairs with Thessalie, not looking back.

* * * * *

Now, sitting there in his dressing-gown, briar pipe alight, he frowned
and pondered over the matter in the light of what he already knew of
Dulcie, of the dead mother who bore her, of the grotesquely impossible
Soane, of this man, Murtagh Skeel.

What had he and Dulcie found in common to converse about so earnestly
and so long there in the music-room? What had they talked about to
drive the colour from Dulcie's cheeks and alter Skeel's countenance so
that he had looked more like his own wraith than his living self?

That Dulcie's mother had known this man, had once, evidently, been in
love with him more or less, doubtless was revealed in their
conversation at the piano. Had Skeel enlightened Dulcie any further?
And on what subject? Soane? Her mother? Her origin--in case the child
had admitted ignorance of it? Was Dulcie, now, in possession of new
facts concerning herself? Were they agreeable facts? Were they
depressing? Had she learned anything definite in regard to her birth?
Her parentage? Did she know, now, who was her real father? Was the
obvious absurdity of Soane finally exploded? Had she learned what the
drunken Soane meant by asserting that her name was not Soane but
Fane?

His pipe burned out and he laid it aside, but did not rise to resume
his preparation for bed.

Then, somewhere from the unlighted depths of the house came the sound
of the telephone bell--at that hour of night always a slightly ominous
sound.

He got up and went down stairs, not troubling to switch on any light,
for the lustre of the starry night outside silvered every window and
made it possible for him to see his way.

At the clamouring telephone, finally, he unhooked the receiver:

"Hello?" he said. "Yes! Yes! Oh, is that _you_, Renoux? Where on earth
are you?... At Northbrook?... Where?... At the Summit House? Well, why
didn't you come here to us?... Oh!... No, it isn't very late. We
retire early at Foreland.... Oh, yes, I'm dressed.... Certainly....
Yes, come over.... Yes!... _Yes_!... I'll wait for you in the
library.... In an hour?... You bet. No, I'm not sle