Come, Rob."

"But Myra--"

Dr. Cairn laid his hand upon his son's shoulder, fixing his eyes upon
him steadily.

"Nothing in this house can injure Myra," he replied quietly; "for Good
is higher than Evil. For the present we can only go."

Antony Ferrara stood aside, as the two walked out of the library.

CHAPTER IV

AT FERRARA'S CHAMBERS

Dr. Bruce Cairn swung around in his chair, lifting his heavy eyebrows
interrogatively, as his son, Robert, entered the consulting-room.
Half-Moon Street was bathed in almost tropical sunlight, but already
the celebrated physician had sent those out from his house to whom the
sky was overcast, whom the sun would gladden no more, and a group of
anxious-eyed sufferers yet awaited his scrutiny in an adjoining room.

"Hullo, Rob! Do you wish to see me professionally?"

Robert Cairn seated himself upon a corner of the big table, shaking
his head slowly.

"No, thanks sir; I'm fit enough; but I thought you might like to know
about the will--"

"I do know. Since I was largely interested, Jermyn attended on my
behalf; an urgent case detained me. He rang up earlier this morning."

"Oh, I see. Then perhaps I'm wasting your time; but it was a
surprise--quite a pleasant one--to find that Sir Michael had provided
for Myra--Miss Duquesne."

Dr. Cairn stared hard.

"What led you to suppose that he had _not_ provided for his niece? She
is an orphan, and he was her guardian."

"Of course, he should have done so; but I was not alone in my belief
that during the--peculiar state of mind--which preceded his death, he
had altered his will--"

"In favour of his adopted son, Antony?"

"Yes. I know _you_ were afraid of it, sir! But as it turns out they
inherit equal shares, and the house goes to Myra. Mr. Antony
Ferrara"--he accentuated the name--"quite failed to conceal his
chagrin."

"Indeed!"

"Rather. He was there in person, wearing one of his beastly fur
coats--a fur coat, with the thermometer at Africa!--lined with
civet-cat, of all abominations!"

Dr. Cairn turned to his table, tapping at the blotting-pad with the
tube of a stethoscope.

"I regret your attitude towards young Ferrara, Rob."

His son started.

"Regret it! I don't understand. Why, you, yourself brought about an
open rupture on the night of Sir Michael's death."

"Nevertheless, I am sorry. You know, since you were present, that Sir
Michael has left his niece--to my care--"

"Thank God for that!"

"