nd full of a greater
and more critical contingency.

"Mr. Gifford!" she responded; but he was sure she had not recognized him
then for the first time. "Oh, no, thank you; I am not in the least hurt.
It was stupid of me to trip and fall like that. Are you going to church?"
she added, evidently wishing to get away.

"I was," he answered. "And you?"

"I was too," she said, conquering her embarrassment, "but I have a
headache, and prefer the fresh air. Don't let me keep you," she held out
her hand. "Service has begun."

He took her hand. "Miss Morriston," he said gravely, "don't think me very
unmannerly, but I am not going to leave you here."

In the bright moonlight he could see her expression of rather haughty
surprise. "I think you are unmannerly, Mr. Gifford," she retorted
defiantly. "May I ask why you are not going to leave me here?"

"Because," he answered with quiet decision, "Mr. Henshaw is waiting just
there in Turner's Lane."

"Is he?" The same defiant note; but there was anxiety behind the
cold pretence.

"Yes. And pardon me, I have an idea he is waiting there for you."

His firm tone and manner baffled equivocation. "What is it to you if he
is?" she returned with a brave attempt to suggest cold displeasure. But
her lip trembled and her voice was scarcely steady.

"It is something to me," he replied insistently, "because it means a
great deal to you. This man is persecuting you. He is--"

"Mr. Gifford!" she exclaimed. "You take--"

He held up his hand. "Please let me finish, Miss Morriston. I can
convince you that I am not taking too much upon myself. I am no fool and
am not interfering without warrant. This man Henshaw has succeeded in
persuading you that you are in his power. That is very far from being the
case, and I can prove it."

"I don't understand you, Mr. Gifford."

The tone of cold annoyance was gone now. Relief and a vague hope seemed
to be struggling with an almost overwhelming anxiety.

"You will understand directly," he replied. "I have more than a suspicion
that this man is seeking to connect you with his brother's death and is
making use of a certain half-knowledge he possesses to get a hold over
you. Is that not so?"

For a while she was silent, her breath coming quickly, as she hesitated
how to meet the direct question. Gifford hated, yet somehow rejoiced, to
see this proud, cold-mannered girl brought to this pass, and the reason
he rejoiced lay in the knowledge that he coul