enty years between us, Maud, it is
hardly kind of you to bring the matter up like this. Perfect love should
have no age nor yet youth. It should be as ageless as Eternity, as
boundless as the sea, as high as Heaven itself.... Are you ready,
Andrew dear?"

She bent toward the flattered and fluttered old man with that something
in her gesture which has been the gift of every woman of her type all
down the long ages since Scylla tempted Ulysses and Charybdis sent his
head whirling with her lure.

Maud Duggan led Cleek from the room at that, and once out of earshot of
this ill-assorted pair, whirled round upon him, a spot of anger showing
in each cheek.

"You see, Mr. Deland, you see?" she rapped out excitedly, "how she
misleads everything we say, and turns it all to her own ends? Oh, how I
hate her--hate her! and have done so ever since she first set foot in
this dear old home of ours. And Father--did you notice how worn and ill
he looks? How his hand shakes so that he cannot steady it? Three months
ago his hand was like a rock; his colour was as healthy as yours or
mine. And yet your Mr. Narkom would say that a woman's intuition leads
to nothing but her own foolish imaginings!"

"Hush, my dear young lady--have a care!" threw in Cleek quickly, at the
sound of footsteps hurrying toward them, his lips tightening in a way
that suggested that he, too, thought there might be "something in it."
"We don't want the whole place to suspect my mission. That is our
secret, if you please. Now, show me the Castle, if you will--and
whatever of interest which you think has bearing upon the case. Where is
Lady Paula's son? Does he live here, or is he away at school just now?"

Miss Duggan shook her head.

"No--Cyril is a delicate boy, and the doctor has advised Father to let
him stay home for a year and just run wild. He is generally with Ross."

"With _Ross_?"

"Yes, the two are sworn friends. Cyril's heart is wrapped up in Ross,
Mr. Deland. He never for one moment suspects what his mother is trying
to do--wrest Ross's inheritance from him so that he, Cyril, should have
it instead. It would break his heart, I think. Wherever Ross is to be
found you may be sure Cyril will be there also."

"Damon and Pythias, eh? Strange that the son loves what the mother
hates, isn't it? I should like to meet this boy."

"You shall--when we reach the laboratory. He's sure to be there helping
Ross. He is like his shadow, that child."

"And he