s fingers closed upon her hand. She yielded it without protest, as
though unconsciously. Not a word passed between them. It seemed to him
that speech would be an anticlimax.

He paid the cab, and turned to follow her. She passed inside and
upstairs without a word. In her little sitting-room she turned on the
electric light and looked around half fearfully.

"Please search everywhere," she said. "I am going through the other
rooms. I shall not let you go till I am quite sure."

"If he has a key," Ennison said, "how are you to be safe?"

"I had bolts fitted on the doors yesterday," she answered. "If he is
not here now I can make myself safe."

It was certain that he was not there. Anna came back into the
sitting-room with a little sigh of relief.

"Indeed," she said, "it was very fortunate that I should have met you
this afternoon. Either Sydney or Mr. Brendon always comes home with
me, and to-night both are away. Mary is very good, but she is too
nervous to be the slightest protection."

"I am very glad," he answered, in a low tone. "It has been a
delightful evening for me."

"And for me," Anna echoed.

A curious silence ensued. Anna was sitting before the fire a little
distance from him--Ennison himself remained standing. Some shadow of
reserve seemed to have crept up between them. She laughed nervously,
but kept her eyes averted.

"It is strange that we should have met Annabel," she said. "I am
afraid your broken dinner engagement will not be so easy to explain."

He was very indifferent. In fact he was thinking of other things.

"I am going," he said, "to be impertinent. I do not understand why you
and your sister should not see more of one another. You must be lonely
here with only a few men friends."

She shook her head.

"Loneliness," she said, "is a luxury which I never permit myself.
Besides--there is Sir John."

"Sir John is an ass!" he declared.

"He is Annabel's husband," she reminded him.

"Annabel!" He looked at her thoughtfully. "It is rather odd," he said,
"but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna."

"Many other people," she remarked, "have made the same mistake."

"Again," he said, "I am going to be impertinent. I never met your
sister in Paris, but I heard about her more than once. She is not in
the least like the descriptions of her."

"She has changed a good deal," Anna admitted.

"There is some mystery about you both," he exclaimed, with sudden
earnestne