lf some time to-day."

As he spoke, he signed to one of the footmen in the room to close the
window, and then propelled his chair with amazing rapidity to the table.

The instant and careful attention accorded to his commands by both
gardener and servant was characteristic of every one in Patrick Lovell's
employment. Although he had been a more or less helpless invalid for
seven years, he had never lost his grip of things. He was exactly as
much master of Barrow Court, the dominant factor there, as he had been
in the good times that were gone, when no day's shooting had been too
long for him, no run with hounds too fast.

He sat very erect in his wheeled chair, a handsome, well-groomed
old aristocrat. Clean-shaven, except for a short, carefully trimmed
moustache, grizzled like his hair, his skin exhibited the waxen pallor
which so often accompanies chronic ill-health, and his face was furrowed
by deep lines, making him look older than his sixty-odd years. His vivid
blue eyes were extraordinarily keen and penetrating; possibly they, and
the determined, squarish jaw, were answerable for that unquestioning
obedience which was invariably accorded him.

"Good-morning, uncle mine!" Sara bent to kiss him as the door closed
quietly behind the retreating servants.

Patrick Lovell screwed his monocle into his eye and regarded her
dispassionately.

"You look somewhat ruffled," he observed, "both literally and
figuratively."

She laughed, putting up a careless hand to brush back the heavy tress of
dark hair that had fallen forward over her forehead.

"I've had an adventure," she answered, and proceeded to recount her
experience with Black Brady. When she reached the point where the man
had fired off his gun, Patrick interrupted explosively.

"The infernal scoundrel! That fellow will dangle at the end of a rope
one of these days--and deserve it, too. He's a murderous ruffian--a
menace to the countryside."

"He only fired into the air--to frighten me," explained Sara.

Her uncle looked at her curiously.

"And did he succeed?" he asked.

She bestowed a little grin of understanding upon him.

"He did," she averred gravely. Then, as Patrick's bushy eyebrows came
together in a bristling frown, she added: "But he remained in ignorance
of the fact."

The frown was replaced by a twinkle.

"That's all right, then," came the contented answer.

"All the same, I really _was_ frightened," she persisted.
"It gave me quite a