t sounds like something out of a melodrama."

"Why on earth should he want to secure a mental ascendancy over me? Do
you suggest----" She flushed.

"I suggest nothing any longer," said Beale, slipping off from the end of
the table. "I merely make a statement of fact. I do not think he has any
designs on you, within the conventional meaning of that phrase, indeed,
I think he wants to marry you--what do you think about that?"

She had recovered something of her poise, and her sense of humour was
helping her out of a situation which, without such a gift, might have
been an embarrassing one.

"I think you have been seeing too many plays and reading too many
exciting books, Mr. Beale," she said, "I confess I have never regarded
Doctor van Heerden as a possible suitor, and if I thought he was I
should be immensely flattered. But may I suggest to you that there are
other ways of winning a girl than by giving her nettle-rash!"

They laughed together.

"All right," he said, swinging up his hat, "proceed with the good work
and seek out the various domiciles of Mr. Scobbs."

Then she remembered.

"Do you know----?"

He was at the door when she spoke and he stopped and turned.

"The name of Mr. Scobbs gives me a cold shiver."

"Why?"

"Answer me this," she said: "why should I who have never heard of him
before until yesterday hear his name mentioned by a perfect stranger?"

The smile died away from his face.

"Who mentioned him! No, it isn't idle curiosity," he said in face of her
derisive finger. "I am really serious. Who mentioned his name?"

"A visitor of Doctor van Heerden's. I heard them talking through the
ventilator when I was bolting my door."

"A visitor to Doctor van Heerden, and he mentioned Mr. Scobbs of Red
Horse Valley," he said half to himself. "You didn't see the man?"

"No."

"You just heard him. No names were mentioned?"

"None," she said. "Is it a frightfully important matter?"

"It is rather," he replied. "We have got to get busy," and with this
cryptic remark he left her.

The day passed as quickly as its predecessor. The tabulation at which
she was working grew until by the evening there was a pile of sheets in
the left-hand cupboard covered with her fine writing. She might have
done more but for the search she had to make for a missing report to
verify one of her facts. It was not on the shelf, and she was about to
abandon her search and postpone the confirmation till she saw Beale,