tric
savant? A philosopher? Or--more probably--a crank? But at this point my
meditations were interrupted by the voice from the adjoining room, once
more raised in anger.

"But I say that you _are_ making an accusation! You are implying that I
made away with him."

"Not at all," was the reply; "but I repeat that it is your business to
ascertain what has become of him. The responsibility rests upon you."

"Upon me!" rejoined the first voice. "And what about you? Your position
is a pretty fishy one if it comes to that."

"What!" roared the other. "Do you insinuate that I murdered my own
brother?"

During this amazing colloquy I had stood gaping with sheer astonishment.
Suddenly I recollected myself, and, dropping into a chair, set my elbows
on my knees and slapped my hands over my ears; and thus I must have
remained for a full minute when I became aware of the closing of a door
behind me.

I sprang to my feet and turned in some embarrassment (for I must have
looked unspeakably ridiculous) to confront the sombre figure of a rather
tall and strikingly handsome girl, who, as she stood with her hand on
the knob of the door, saluted me with a formal bow. In an instantaneous
glance I noted how perfectly she matched her strange surroundings.
Black-robed, black-haired, with black-grey eyes and a grave, sad face of
ivory pallor, she stood, like one of old Terborch's portraits, a harmony
in tones so low as to be but a step removed from monochrome. Obviously a
lady in spite of the worn and rusty dress, and something in the poise of
the head and the set of the straight brows hinted at a spirit that
adversity had hardened rather than broken.

"I must ask you to forgive me for keeping you waiting," she said; and as
she spoke a certain softening at the corners of the austere mouth
reminded me of the absurd position in which she had found me.

I murmured that the trifling delay was of no consequence whatever; that
I had, in fact, been rather glad of the rest; and I was beginning
somewhat vaguely to approach the subject of the invalid when the voice
from the adjoining room again broke forth with hideous distinctness.

"I tell you I'll do nothing of the kind! Why, confound you, it's
nothing less than a conspiracy that you're proposing!"

Miss Bellingham--as I assumed her to be--stepped quickly across the
floor, flushing angrily, as well she might; but, as she reached the
door, it flew open and a small, spruce, middle-aged man b