rankly and freely; and I suppose you would not
mind apologising to him, if necessary?"

"He may be in the house now," I said, more to myself than to Lisa.

"If he is, he'll come out and meet her when he hears the gate open.
There, it's open now. The maid's unlocked it. No, there's nobody in the
garden."

"I can't stop here and watch for him, like a spy," I said.

"Not like a spy, but like a girl who thinks she may have done a man an
injustice. It's for _his_ sake I ask you to stay. And if you won't, I
must stay alone. If you insist on going away, I'll get out and stand in
the street, either until Ivor Dundas has come, or until I'm sure he
isn't coming. But how much better to wait and see for yourself."

"You know I can't go off and leave you standing here," I answered. "And
I can't leave you sitting in the carriage, and walk through the streets
alone. I might meet--" I would not finish my sentence, but Lisa must
nave guessed the name on my lips.

"The only thing to do, then, is for us to stop where we are, together,"
said Lisa, "for stop I must and shall, in justice to myself, to Ivor
Dundas and to you. You couldn't force me away, even if you wanted to use
force."

"Which you know is out of the question," I said, desperately. "But why
has your conscience begun to reproach you for trying to put me against
Ivor? You seemed to have no scruples whatever, last night and this
morning."

"I've been thinking hard since then. I want my warning to you either to
be justified, or else I want to apologise humbly. For if Ivor doesn't
come to this house to-night, in spite of his embarrassment when he spoke
about an engagement, I shall believe that he doesn't care a rap about
Maxine de Renzie."

I said no more, but leaned back against the cushions, my heart beating
as if it were in my throat, and my brain throbbing in time with it. I
could not think, or argue with myself what was really right and wise to
do. I could only give myself up, and drift with circumstances.

"A man has just come round the far corner," whispered Lisa. "Is it Ivor?
I can't make out. He doesn't look our way."

"Thank Heaven we're too far off for him to see our faces! I would rather
die than have Ivor know we're here," I broke out.

"I don't think it is Ivor," Lisa went on. "He's hidden himself in the
shadow, as if he were watching. It's _that_ house he's interested in.
Who can he be, if not Ivor? A detective, perhaps."

"Why should a detective wat