ay over the household, but
his old zest in it seemed gone. He made, too, small tentative overtures
to Lily, intended to be friendly, but actually absurdly self-conscious.
Grace, watching him, often felt him rather touching. It was obvious to
her that he blamed himself, rather than Lily, for what had happened.

On this occasion he had asked Lily to read to him.

"And leave out the politics," he had said, "I get enough of that
wherever I go."

As she read she felt him watching her, and in the middle of a paragraph
he suddenly said:

"What's become of Cameron?"

"He must be very busy. He is supporting Mr. Hendricks, you know."

"Supporting him! He's carrying him on his back," grunted Anthony. "What
is it, Grayson?"

"A lady--a woman--calling on Miss Cardew."

Lily rose, but Anthony motioned her back.

"Did she give any name?"

"She said to say it was Jennie, sir."

"Jennie! It must be Aunt Elinor's Jennie!"

"Send her in," said Anthony, and stood waiting Lily noticed his face
twitching; it occurred to her then that this strange old man might still
love his daughter, after all the years, and all his cruelty.

It was the elderly servant from the Doyle house who came in, a tall
gaunt woman, looking oddly unfamiliar to Lily in a hat.

"Why, Jennie!" she said. And then: "Is anything wrong?"

"There is and there isn't," Jennie said, somberly. "I just wanted to
tell you, and I don't care if he kills me for it. It was him that threw
her downstairs. I heard him hit her."

Old Anthony stiffened.

"He threw Aunt Elinor downstairs?"

"That's how she broke her leg."

Sheer amazement made Lily inarticulate.

"But they said--we didn't know--do you mean that she has been there all
this time, hurt?"

"I mean just that," said Jennie, stolidly. "I helped set it, with him
pretending to be all worked up, for the doctor to see. He got rid of
me all right. He's got one of his spies there now, a Bolshevik like
himself. You can ask the neighbors."

Howard was out, and when the woman had gone Anthony ordered his car.
Lily, frightened by the look on his face, made only one protest.

"You mustn't go alone," she said. "Let me go, too. Or take
Grayson--anybody."

But he went alone; in the hall he picked up his hat and stick, and drew
on his gloves.

"What is the house number?"

Lily told him and he went out, moving deliberately, like a man who has
made up his mind to follow a certain course, but to keep himself well i