fascinating smile
he had ever seen. "Only let me know how I can serve you," he said, his
pulses tingling.

"I am thinking of my brother," she replied, in a tone so friendly that it
neutralized the rather damping effect of the words. "He is worrying over
this business more than one who does not know him well would think. I had
an idea, Mr. Gifford, that you might help us by, in a way, standing
between us, so far as might be possible, and this Mr. Gervase Henshaw. He
stays at your hotel, does he not?"

"Yes; he is expected there to-morrow morning, if not to-night."

"You may perhaps," the girl proceeded, "be able--I don't know how, and I
have no right to ask it--"

"Please, Miss Morriston!" Gifford pleaded.

"To minimize any annoyance we are likely to suffer through his--his
uncomfortable zeal," she resumed hesitatingly. "If not that, you may, if
he is friendly with you, have an opportunity of getting to hear something
of his plans and ideas, and warning me if he is likely to worry us at
Wynford. We don't want the tragedy kept alive indefinitely; it would be
intolerable. I am sure you understand how I feel. That is all."

"You may rely on me to the utmost," Gifford assured her fervently, in
answer to the question in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, as she rose. "I felt sure I might ask you this
favour and trust you."

She made a slight movement of putting out her hand. The gesture was
coldly made; it might, indeed, have been checked, and gone for nothing.
But Gifford, keenly on the alert for a sign of regard, was quick to take
the hand and press it impulsively.

"You may trust me, Miss Morriston," he murmured.

"Thank you," she responded simply, but, he was glad to notice, with a
touch of relief.

She lightly took his arm and they went back to the ball-room.

CHAPTER XII

HAD HENSHAW A CLUE?

Next day Gervase Henshaw made his expected reappearance in Branchester.
He left his luggage at the _Golden Lion_ and then went off to the
police-station where he had a long interview with the chief constable.
Mindful of his promise to Edith Morriston, Hugh Gifford kept about the
town with the object of coming across Henshaw and getting to know, if
possible, something of his intentions. The attraction he had, even from
their first introduction, felt towards Miss Morriston had become quickly
intensified by their strangely confidential talk on the previous
evening. So far she was to him something of a puzzle,