one evening after a hard morning's work on my book, and a particularly fatiguing afternoon spent in vainly trying to lift hubbard out of a funereal mood, i thought i should make myself a present of a few minutes' conversation with miss ottley. i argued that she would be sure to spend the evening out somewhere, so i knocked at her father's door a few minutes before eight o'clock. a gloomy-looking footman opened the door. yes, miss ottley was at home. he would give her my card. would i wait? i would, though i wondered. i heard dr. belleville's voice. it issued from a room that opened on the hall. he was talking shrilly as though he were angered, and in french, perhaps to spare the feelings of the servants. he kept repeating that he had made up his mind and that he would not wait another day for god almighty. all of a sudden the door opened and he stalked out looking like the baffled villain in a melodrama. we came face to face. he stopped dead and glared at me. "you!" he gasped. "what are you doing here; what do you want?"

i glanced beyond him and saw miss ottley. he had been speaking to her, then, and like that. my blood began to boil. i advanced upon him trying to smile. i had seen miss ottley's face. "i want you to go right back into that room and pretend you are a gentleman," i said. the girl had put a kerchief to her eyes. "quickly!" i added.

dr. belleville returned into the room. i followed and closed the door.

"dr. pinsent——" he began as i turned. but i cut him short.

"on your knees," i commanded. he went livid. "dr. pinsent," said miss ottley, "i beg you not to interfere. you will only make it the harder for me."

she might as well have spoken to a fence. i never took my eyes from belleville. "you know what you ought to do," i murmured. "if you compel me to teach you, you'll repent the object lesson in a hospital."

he fell on his knees before the girl. "i apologise," he groaned out in a choking voice.

i bowed him out of the room as deferentially as if he were a woman. he vanished silently. miss ottley was dressed for the opera.

"you are going out?" i asked.

"y-yes," she said. she was powdering her face before a mirror.

"to the opera?"

"yes. to meet there mrs. austin."

"dare you walk there—with me for a companion?"

"oh, yes," she said.

a moment later we found ourselves in curzon street. she took my arm. we walked for two blocks in absolute silence, save that every now and then she choked back a sob. she was her own mistress again at length, however. "why did you come—of all times to-night?" she asked.

"i do not know."

"did you wish to see my father?"

"no. you."

"why?"

"i had a subconscious conviction that you might be needing me."

"truly?" she cried—and pressed my arm.

"that or something else. at any rate, i felt obliged to call. it may have been from a desire to reassure myself about the colour of your eyes."

"ah! i suppose you are wondering—because—dr. belleville—because—i——," she paused.

"i am human," i observed.

"i want you to forget it. will you, dr. pinsent?"

"on the spot."

"that is good of you." her tone was crisp with disappointment. "you are indeed a friend."

"but not in need a friend, eh? come, come, miss ottley, you are in trouble. i am strong and[pg 141] trustworthy and capable. there are times when a man may tell the truth about himself, and this, i think, is one of them. can i help you?"

"no one can help me," she said sadly, "you least of all."

"and why least of all?"

"because you hate my father."

"is he in trouble, too?"

"he is the willing but unwitting victim of a wicked, wicked man—but, oh, what am i saying? dr. pinsent, please, please let us talk of something else."

"you are trembling—may."

"oh!" she said—and looked at me.

"it slipped out—unconsciously," i stammered. "i did not mean to be impertinent. i think of you—by that name. is it impertinent to think——"

"no, no."

"then you'll forgive me?"

"what is there to forgive?"

"all that the circumstance implies. come, after all, i am not sorry for the slip. why should i twist its meaning either, like a coward. it is only the weak who need the shelter of hypocrisy. look straight before you—may—and do not turn your eyes. may again, you see."

"you have something to tell me," she said gravely.

"the old, old story, may," i answered with a short but reckless laugh.

"should you—dr. pinsent—do you think?"

"yes, because the husband you have chosen is a gallant fellow and my friend. i am too fond of him to wish to do him an ill turn, even in my own adventure. why, look you, may, were you to turn to me and say, 'i love you, hugo pinsent,' i would answer, 'yes—and we both love frankfort weldon.'"

"yes," said miss ottley. she stopped and we looked deep into each other's eyes.

"yes," she said again. "and we both love frankfort weldon."

"god help us," i exclaimed.

"it is a good prayer. god will hear it," she said softly.

"what made you?" i asked a little later; we were walking on again—but now apart.

"you," she said.

"it is very wonderful."

"and sad," said she.

"but grand and beautiful."

"i shall not go to the opera to-night," she said. "will you put me in a cab?"

"you will go home?"

"yes."

"and belleville?"

"he will be at work. i shall not see him."

"he threatened you?"

"not me, but captain weldon. he demands that i shall marry him. my father also wishes it.[pg 143] you see i tell you everything—now. you will help me, will you not?"

"of course. but you must teach me how. in what fashion does belleville threaten weldon?"

"he vows—that unless i do as he demands within this week—captain weldon will be found dead in his bed."

"murder!" i cried.

"he does not scruple to conceal the fact. he declares he has nothing to fear. he pretends to possess a secret which gives him as great a power over life and death as providence. an esoteric power, of course. it is connected with the discovery of ptahmes. he claims to have already tested it. my father has used it in other ways. he has been experimenting on the stock exchange. in ten days he has already doubled his fortune. surely of that you must have heard."

"i have heard that he has been speculating with extravagant success. but that his luck was due to supernatural agency i decline to believe. in my opinion belleville is simply putting up a scoundrelly game of bluff."

"i wish i could think so, too. but i cannot."

"but, my dear girl, consider the probabilities. belleville's story belongs to the middle ages."

"yes—but he believes it. i am as sure of that as that i live."

"and is that a reason why you should believe it, too? the man is perhaps a lunatic."

"ah!" she said. "i knew that you would take this view. that was partly why i felt you could not help me."

but her distress cut me to the quick. "it does not matter what view i take," i muttered hastily. "i'll do anything you wish."

"anything?"

"did you doubt it?"

"no."

"then——"

"then go and stay with captain weldon. he will welcome you, for he likes you out of mention. spend the week with him. do not let him from your sight at night. especially guard him while he sleeps. is it too much to ask?"

"no."

"there is a cab—stop it, please! thanks. now say good-bye to me."

"good-bye—may." i helped her into the vehicle. "would it be permissible to kiss your hand?"

"no!" she said, "but give me yours."

i felt her lips upon my fingers, and with a sort of groan i snatched them away from her grasp. that was our good-bye.