boy must. Stefan Loristan cannot be
sitting quietly at home, knowing that Samavian hearts are being shot
through and Samavian blood poured forth. He cannot think and say
NOTHING!"

Marco started in spite of himself. He felt as if his father had been
struck in the face. How dare she say such words! Big as he was,
suddenly he looked bigger, and the beautiful lady saw that he did.

"He is my father," he said slowly.

She was a clever, beautiful person, and saw that she had made a great
mistake.

"You must forgive me," she exclaimed. "I used the wrong words because
I was excited. That is the way with women. You must see that I meant
that I knew he was giving his heart and strength, his whole being, to
Samavia, even though he must stay in London."

She started and turned her head to listen to the sound of some one
using the latch-key and opening the front door. The some one came in
with the heavy step of a man.

"It is one of the lodgers," she said. "I think it is the one who lives
in the third floor sitting-room."

"Then you won't be alone when I go," said Marco. "I am glad some one
has come. I will say good-morning. May I tell my father your name?"

"Tell me that you are not angry with me for expressing myself so
awkwardly," she said.

"You couldn't have meant it. I know that," Marco answered boyishly.
"You couldn't."

"No, I couldn't," she repeated, with the same emphasis on the words.

She took a card from a silver case on the table and gave it to him.

"Your father will remember my name," she said. "I hope he will let me
see him and tell him how you took care of me."

She shook his hand warmly and let him go. But just as he reached the
door she spoke again.

"Oh, may I ask you to do one thing more before you leave me?" she said
suddenly. "I hope you won't mind. Will you run up-stairs into the
drawing-room and bring me the purple book from the small table? I
shall not mind being alone if I have something to read."

"A purple book? On a small table?" said Marco.

"Between the two long windows," she smiled back at him.

The drawing-room of such houses as these is always to be reached by one
short flight of stairs.

Marco ran up lightly.

XIV

MARCO DOES NOT ANSWER

By the time he turned the corner of the stairs, the beautiful lady had
risen from her seat in the back room and walked into the dining-room at
the front. A heavily-built, dark-bearded man was standing inside