prying into your desk, you will surely not be
sorry to get rid of us altogether!"

The old man looked at her long and thoughtfully.

"Yes," he said quietly, "it's a pity--a very great pity--that the two
things should have happened together. It is as unsatisfactory to me as
to you that you should leave before the culprit has been discovered.
But it is useless now to argue the point if your minds are already made
up. Taking everything into consideration--the peculiar circumstances
with regard to my will, your original acceptance of my invitation--do I
still understand that you wish to leave me to-day?"

"It is our duty to go home. Yes, we have quite decided," said Ruth.

The old man's eyes turned towards the younger girl.

"And you, Mollie?"

"Yes, uncle; I'm sorry, but we can't leave mother alone just now."

Mr Farrell sat silent, his eyebrows lowered, his head hanging forward
on his chest, so that it was difficult to see the expression of his
face; but the pose of the figure suggested weariness and disappointment.
Suddenly he stretched out his hand and touched an electric bell. A
servant appeared almost immediately, and was asked a hasty question--

"Is Mr Druce still in the house?"

"I believe so, sir. He was in the morning-room a few minutes ago."

"Go down and tell him that I should be obliged if he would come up here
at once."

The girls exchanged puzzled glances as the servant departed on his
errand; but they did not dare to speak, and, as Mr Farrell relapsed
into his former downcast attitude, the silence was broken only by the
sound of Victor's approaching footsteps. He entered the room confident
and smiling, but drew up with a start of surprise at seeing the two
girls. He was evidently disappointed at their presence, and vaguely
uneasy; but after the first involuntary movement his features quickly
resumed their mask-like calm.

"You sent for me, sir. Is there anything I can do?"

Mr Farrell raised his head and looked at him thoughtfully. It was
seldom indeed that he allowed himself to show any sign of interest in
his young companions, so that this steady scrutiny was the more
remarkable. Even Victor's composure suffered beneath it, for a tinge of
colour crept into his pale cheeks, and he moved uneasily to and fro.

"What is it, sir?" he repeated. "I hope nothing fresh has happened to
distress you."

"Thank you, Druce. My plans have been still further upset this morning,
as, owing to