e gave when he saw me
was evidence of the state of his nerves. I had never thought of him as
possessing any nerves.

"Eh? Why, Knowles!" he exclaimed.

"Good morning, Bayliss," said I.

We both were embarrassed, he more than I, for I had expected to see him
and he had not expected to see me. I made a move to shake hands but he
did not respond. His manner toward me was formal and, I thought, colder
than it had been at our meeting the day of the golf tournament.

"I called," I said, "to see you, Bayliss. If you are not engaged I
should like to talk with you for a few moments."

His answer was a question.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked.

"I saw your name in the list of recent arrivals at the Continental," I
answered.

"I mean how did you know I was in Paris?"

"I didn't know. I thought I caught a glimpse of you on the boat. I was
almost sure it was you, but you did not appear to recognize me and I had
no opportunity to speak then."

He did not speak at once, he did not even attempt denial of having seen
and recognized me during the Channel crossing. He regarded me intently
and, I thought, suspiciously.

"Who sent you here?" he asked, suddenly.

"Sent me! No one sent me. I don't understand you."

"Why did you follow me?"

"Follow you?"

"Yes. Why did you follow me to Paris? No one knew I was coming here,
not even my own people. They think I am--Well, they don't know that I am
here."

His speech and his manner were decidedly irritating. I had made a firm
resolve to keep my temper, no matter what the result of this interview
might be, but I could not help answering rather sharply.

"I had no intention of following you--here or anywhere else," I said.
"Your action and whereabouts, generally speaking, are of no particular
interest to me. I did not follow you to Paris, Doctor Bayliss."

He reddened and hesitated. Then he led the way to a divan in a retired
corner of the lobby and motioned to me to be seated. There he sat down
beside me and waited for me to speak. I, in turn, waited for him to
speak.

At last he spoke.

"I'm sorry, Knowles," he said. "I am not myself today. I've had a devil
of a night and I feel like a beast this morning. I should probably have
insulted my own father, had he appeared suddenly, as you did. Of course
I should have known you did not follow me to Paris. But--but why did you
come?"

I hesitated now. "I came," I said, "to--to--Well, to be perfectly honest
with yo