--er, young lady."

"But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraid
of the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask you
all to be merciful."

"To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton.

"Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with another
softening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so down
on an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There are
two of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old men
to be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?"

Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked round
again, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a little
sheepishly at Mr. Petherton.

"It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what Miss
Chatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own free
will--something. I should like to know what that something is. I think
Mrs. Greyle would like to know, too."

"Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure
with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss
Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father."

Mr. Petherton, who frowned very much and appeared to be greatly disturbed
by these irregularities, twisted sharply round on the visitor.

"Where is your father?" he demanded.

"Where you can't find him!" retorted Addie, with a flash of the eye that
lit up her whole face. "So's Andrius. They're off, my good sir!--both of
'em. Neither you nor the police can lay hands on 'em now. And you'll do
no good by laying hands on me. Come now," she went on, "I said I'd come
to ask for mercy. But I came for more. This game's all over! It's--up.
The curtain's down--at least it's going down. Why don't you let me tell
you all about it and then we can be friends?"

Mr. Petherton gazed at Addie for a moment as if she were some
extraordinary specimen of a new race. Then he took off his glasses, waved
them at Sir Cresswell and dropped into a chair with a snort.

"I wash my hands of the whole thing!" he exclaimed. "Do what you
like--all of you. Irregular--most irregular!"

Vickers gave Addie a sly look.

"Don't incriminate yourself, Miss Chatfield," he said. "There's no need
for you to tell anything against yourself, you know."

"Me!" exclaimed Addie. "Why, I've been playing good angel all day
long--me incriminate myself, indeed! If Miss Greyle