our before and to feel that the robe
was wet.

"Where have you been, Daughter?" he asked.

She hesitated, drawing the robe out of his hand. "I--I have been
driving Mr. Eaton in a motor," she said.

"Helping him to escape?" A spasm crossed the blind man's face.

"He said not; he--he was following the men who shot Cousin Wallace."

The blind man lay for an instant still. "Tell me," he commanded
finally.

She told him, beginning with her discovery of Eaton in the garage and
ending with his leaving her and with Donald Avery's finding her in the
motor; and now she held back one word only--his name which he had told
her, Hugh. Her father listened intently; when she had finished, he
made no move, no comment, no reproach. She had seated herself on the
chair beside his bed; she looked away, then back to him.

"That is not all," she said; and she told him of her expedition with
Eaton to the ravine before the attack in the house.

Again she waited.

"You and Mr. Eaton appear to have become rather well acquainted,
Harriet," he said. "Has he told you nothing about himself which you
have not told me? You have seen nothing concerning him, which you have
not told?"

Her mind went quickly back to the polo game; she felt a flush, which
his blind eyes could not see, dyeing her cheeks and forehead.

"No," she answered. She was aware that he did not accept the denial,
that he knew she was concealing something.

"Nothing?" he asked again.

She put her hands to her face; then she drew them quickly away.
"Nothing," she said steadily.

The blind man waited for a moment; he put out his hand and pressed the
bell which called the steward. Neither spoke until the steward had
come.

"Fairley," Santoine said then, quietly, "Miss Santoine and I have just
agreed that for the present all reports regarding the pursuit of the
men who entered the study last night are to be made direct to me, not
through Miss Santoine or Mr. Avery."

"Very well, sir."

She still sat silent after the steward had gone; she thought for an
instant her father had forgotten her presence; then he moved slightly.

"That is all, dear," he said quietly.

She got up and left him, and went to her own rooms; she did not pretend
to herself that she could rest. She bathed and dressed and went
downstairs. The library had windows facing to the west; she went in
there and stood looking out. Somewhere to the west was Eaton, alone,
wounded; she knew she ne