metimes think he
grows queerer every day."

"He is very far from well, I am certain," I answered.

We stayed out for about half an hour and returned home by a path which
led into the house through a side entrance. Phyllis was waiting for us
in the hall.

"Where is my father?" asked Allen, going up to her.

"He is tired and has gone to bed," she answered. "Good-night, Allen."

"Won't you come into the drawing-room?" he asked in some astonishment.

"No, I am tired."

She nodded to him without touching his hand; her eyes, I could not help
noticing, had a queer expression. She ran upstairs.

I saw that Allen was startled by her manner; but as he did not say
anything, neither did I.

The next day at breakfast I was told that the Curzons had already left
the Abbey. Allen was full of astonishment and, I could see, a good deal
annoyed. He and I breakfasted alone in the old library. His father was
too ill to come downstairs.

An hour later I was on my way back to London. Many things there engaged
my immediate attention, and Allen, his engagement, Sir Henry, and the
old family curse, sank more or less into the background of my mind.

Three months afterwards, on the 7th of January, I saw to my sorrow in
the _Times_ the announcement of Sir Henry Clinton's death.

From time to time in the interim I had heard from the son, saying that
his father was failing fast. He further mentioned that his own wedding
was fixed for the twenty-first of the present month. Now, of course, it
must be postponed. I felt truly sorry for Allen, and wrote immediately
a long letter of condolence.

On the following day I received a wire from him, imploring me to go down
to the Abbey as soon as possible, saying that he was in great
difficulty.

I packed a few things hastily, and arrived at Clinton Abbey at six in
the evening. The house was silent and subdued--the funeral was to take
place the next day. Clinton came into the hall and gripped me warmly by
the hand. I noticed at once how worn and worried he looked.

"This is good of you, Bell," he said. "I cannot tell you how grateful I
am to you for coming. You are the one man who can help me, for I know
you have had much experience in matters of this sort. Come into the
library and I will tell you everything. We shall dine alone this
evening, as my mother and the girls are keeping to their own apartments
for to-night."

As soon as we were seated, he plunged at once into his story.

"I mus