a general
introduction at their table by bringing the two together. Such an
introduction would undoubtedly relieve him of a certain responsibility
which had persisted in attaching itself to him.

So he tried to think. But in spite of his resolution he could not get
the empty chair opposite him out of his mind. It refused to be
obliterated, and when other chairs became vacant as their owners left
the table, this one straight across from him continued to thrust itself
upon him. Until this morning it had been like other empty chairs. Now it
was persistently annoying, inasmuch as he had no desire to be so
constantly reminded of last night, and the twelve o'clock tryst of Mary
Standish with Graham's agent, Rossland.

He was the last at the table. Tucker, remaining until his final hope of
seeing Mary Standish was gone, rose with two others. The first two had
made their exit through the door leading from the dining salon when the
young engineer paused. Alan, watching him, saw a sudden change in his
face. In a moment it was explained. Mary Standish came in. She passed
Tucker without appearing to notice him, and gave Alan a cool little nod
as she seated herself at the table. She was very pale. He could see
nothing of the flush of color that had been in her cheeks last night. As
she bowed her head a little, arranging her dress, a pool of sunlight
played in her hair, and Alan was staring at it when she raised her eyes.
They were coolly beautiful, very direct, and without embarrassment.
Something inside him challenged their loveliness. It seemed
inconceivable that such eyes could play a part in fraud and deception,
yet he was in possession of quite conclusive proof of it. If they had
lowered themselves an instant, if they had in any way betrayed a shadow
of regret, he would have found an apology. Instead of that, his fingers
touched the handkerchief in his pocket.

"Did you sleep well, Miss Standish?" he asked politely.

"Not at all," she replied, so frankly that his conviction was a bit
unsettled. "I tried to powder away the dark rings under my eyes, but I
am afraid I have failed. Is that why you ask?"

He was holding the handkerchief in his hand. "This is the first morning
I have seen you at breakfast. I accepted it for granted you must have
slept well. Is this yours, Miss Standish?"

He watched her face as she took the crumpled bit of cambric from his
fingers. In a moment she was smiling. The smile was not forced. It was