.
Out there we have made acquaintance with Mr. Dion Leith, who had the
terrible misfortune to kill his little boy nearly a year and a half ago.
I want very much to speak to you about him. I will explain why when I
see you if you have the time to spare me an interview. I would gladly
welcome you here, or I could come to you. Which do you prefer? I am
telling the messenger to wait for an answer. To be frank, I have come to
Liverpool on purpose to see you.--Yours sincerely,

"DELIA INGLETON"

The messenger came back without an answer. Father Robertson was out, but
the note would be given to him as soon as he came home.

That evening, just after nine o'clock, he arrived at the hotel, and sent
up his name to Lady Ingleton.

"Please ask him to come up," she said to the German waiter who had
mispronounced his name.

As she waited for her visitor she was conscious of a faint creeping of
shyness through her. It made her feel oddly girlish. When had she last
felt shy? She could not remember. It must have been centuries ago.

The German waiter opened the door and a white-haired man walked in.
Directly she saw him Lady Ingleton lost her unusual feeling. As she
greeted him, and made her little apology for bothering him, and thanked
him for coming out at night to see a stranger, she felt glad that she
had obeyed her impulse and had been, for once, a victim to altruism.
When she looked at his eyes she knew that she would not mind saying to
him all she wanted to say about Dion Leith. They were eyes which shone
with clarity; and they were something else--they were totally incurious
eyes. Perhaps from perversity Lady Ingleton had always rebelled against
giving to curious people the exact food they were in search of.

"He won't be greedy to know," she thought. "And so I shan't mind telling
him."

Unlike a woman, she came at once to the point. Although she could be
very evasive she could also be very direct.

"You know Mrs. Dion Leith," she said. "My friend Tippie Chetwinde, Mrs.
Willie Chetwinde, told me she was living here. She came here soon after
the death of her child, I believe."

"Yes, she did, and she has been here ever since."

"Do you know Dion Leith, Mr. Robertson?" she asked, leaning forward in
her chair by the fire, and fixing her large eyes, that looked like an
Italian's, upon him.

"No, I have never seen him. I hoped to, but the tragedy of the child
occurred so soon after his return from South Africa that I