account to Sidebotham."

II

The tall form disappeared and the door was shut. The conversation of the
past few minutes had come somewhat as a revelation to the secretary.
Garvey seemed in full possession of normal instincts. There was no doubt
as to the sincerity of his manner and intentions. The suspicions of the
first hour began to vanish like mist before the sun. Sidebotham's
portentous warnings and the mystery with which he surrounded the whole
episode had been allowed to unduly influence his mind. The loneliness of
the situation and the bleak nature of the surroundings had helped to
complete the illusion. He began to be ashamed of his suspicions and a
change commenced gradually to be wrought in his thoughts. Anyhow a
dinner and a bed were preferable to six miles in the dark, no dinner,
and a cold train into the bargain.

Garvey returned presently. "We'll do the best we can for you," he said,
dropping into the deep armchair on the other side of the fire. "Marx is
a good servant if you watch him all the time. You must always stand over
a Jew, though, if you want things done properly. They're tricky and
uncertain unless they're working for their own interest. But Marx might
be worse, I'll admit. He's been with me for nearly twenty years--cook,
valet, housemaid, and butler all in one. In the old days, you know, he
was a clerk in our office in Chicago."

Garvey rattled on and Shorthouse listened with occasional remarks thrown
in. The former seemed pleased to have somebody to talk to and the sound
of his own voice was evidently sweet music in his ears. After a few
minutes, he crossed over to the sideboard and again took up the decanter
of whisky, holding it to the light. "You will join me this time," he
said pleasantly, pouring out two glasses, "it will give us an appetite
for dinner," and this time Shorthouse did not refuse. The liquor was
mellow and soft and the men took two glasses apiece.

"Excellent," remarked the secretary.

"Glad you appreciate it," said the host, smacking his lips. "It's very
old whisky, and I rarely touch it when I'm alone. But this," he added,
"is a special occasion, isn't it?"

Shorthouse was in the act of putting his glass down when something drew
his eyes suddenly to the other's face. A strange note in the man's voice
caught his attention and communicated alarm to his nerves. A new light
shone in Garvey's eyes and there flitted momentarily across his strong
features the shadow o