rown out.

"You! Oh, I thought--" she drew her breath quickly.

"You thought what?"

"Oh, nothing--only I heard the noise, and--and wondered who it could
be." She looked about at the confusion. "What--what are you doing?
Hunting for some one?"

"A needle in a haystack," I answered, suddenly suspicious that she might
know something of the fugitive. "Will you help me search?"

"I--I hardly appreciate your humor," haughtily. "Is--is it Captain Le
Gaire?"

"Why do you suspect that, Miss Willifred? Is it because you imagine the
man may be here?"

"Because I know he got away; because I know your feeling toward him,
your effort to take his life."

"You know! What is all this?" so stunned I could scarcely articulate.
"Surely your father--"

"I know of no reason why my father should be dragged into this affair."

"But he was present; he surely told you what occurred."

"He said the two of you went out to fight; that it was a dishonorable
affair. He gave me no particulars, and I asked none--I already knew what
had taken place."

"Then you have seen Le Gaire since--is that so?"

She turned her back toward me, and stepped into the hall. The action was
defiant, almost insulting.

"Miss Willifred, I insist on an answer."

"Indeed," carelessly, "to what?"

"To my question--have you seen Le Gaire since?"

"I refuse to tell you."

It was an instant before I found my voice, or could control my words.
This was all most confusing, and yet the light was coming. Here was the
secret of her sudden dislike for me. Her hand was already upon the knob
of her own door, and she did not so much as glance back. What could I
say? What ought I to say? Beyond doubt, uncertain as to her real
feelings toward Le Gaire, Hardy had not revealed to her the fellow's
disgraceful action. Some way, his brief explanation had merely served to
confirm her previous opinion that the captain had been the one
injured--such an impression she could have derived only from Le Gaire.
It was equally clear I could not explain. She would scarcely believe
any effort to defend myself. Why should she think me capable of a
dastardly act? Why believe Le Gaire's hasty lie, and refuse me even a
hearing? The thought left me so indignant that for the moment I felt
indifferent even to her good opinion.

"Well, Miss Hardy," I said at last, conscious my voice trembled, "I am
going to find this man if he is in the house, even if the search takes
me to your own room."