ou were a guest at my table and you gave me not the
slightest warning. On the contrary, this morning you offered me a week's
respite."

"The story I told," Francis answered, "could have had no significance to
them."

"I don't know whether you are trying to deceive me or not," Trent said,
"only if you do not know, let me tell you--Miss Wendermott is that old
man's daughter!"

The man's start was real. There was no doubt about that. "And she knew?"

"She knew that he had been in Africa, but she believed that he had
died there. What she believes at this moment I cannot tell. Your story
evidently moved her. She will probably try to find out from you the
truth."

Francis nodded.

"She has asked me to call upon her to-morrow."

"Exactly. Now, forgive my troubling you with personal details, but
you've got to understand. I mean Miss Wendermott to be my wife."

Francis sat up in his chair genuinely surprised. Something like a scowl
was on his dark, sallow face.

"Your wife!" he exclaimed, "aren't you joking, Trent?"

"I am not," Trent answered sharply. "From the moment I saw her that has
been my fixed intention. Every one thinks of me as simply a speculator
with the money fever in my veins. Perhaps that was true once. It isn't
now! I must be rich to give her the position she deserves. That's all I
care for money."'

"I am very much interested," Francis said slowly, "to hear of your
intentions. Hasn't it occurred to you, however, that your behaviour
toward Miss Wendermott's father will take a great deal of explanation?"

"If there is no interference," Trent said, "I can do it. There is
mystery on her part too, for I offered a large reward and news of him
through my solicitor, and she actually refused to reply. She has refused
any money accruing to her through her father, or to be brought into
contact with any one who could tell her about him."

"The fact," Francis remarked drily, "is scarcely to her credit. Monty
may have been disreputable enough, I've no doubt he was; but his
going away and staying there all these years was a piece of noble
unselfishness."

"Monty has been hardly used in some ways," Trent said. "I've done my
best by him, though."

"That," Francis said coldly, "is a matter of opinion."

"I know very well," Trent answered, "what yours is. You are welcome to
it. You can blackguard me all round London if you like in a week--but I
want a week's grace."

"Why should I grant it you?"

Trent shr