LITMIR.BIZ

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sister looked up. She broke in, rather eagerly, "What sort of a man do you suppose Mr. Dampier to be, Gerald?"

      He shrugged his shoulders, rather ill-temperedly. He, too, was tired, after the long day of waiting and suspense. "How can I possibly tell, Daisy? I must say it's rather like a woman to ask such a question! From something Mrs. Dampier said, I gather he is a plain-looking chap."

      And then Daisy laughed heartily, for the first time that day. "Why, she adores him!" she cried, "she can't have told you that."

      "Indeed she did! But you weren't there when I made her describe him carefully to me. I had to ask her, for it was important that I should have some sort of notion what the fellow is like."

      He took out his note-book. "I'll tell you what I wrote down, practically from her dictation. 'A tall man--taller than the average Englishman. A loosely-hung fellow; (he doesn't care for any kind of sport, I gather). Thirty five years of age; (seems a bit old to have married a girl--she won't be twenty till next month). He has big, strongly-marked features, and a good deal of fair hair. Always wears an old fashioned repeater watch and bunch of seals. Was probably wearing this morning a light grey tweed suit and a straw hat.'" Gerald looked up and turned to his sister, "If you call that the description of a good-looking man, well, all I can say is that I don't agree with you, Daisy!"

      "He's a very good artist," said the Senator mildly. "Did you go into his studio, Gerald?"

      "Yes, I did. And I can't say that I agree with you, father: I didn't care for any of the pictures I saw there."

      Gerald Burton spoke rather crossly. Both his father and sister felt surprised at his tone. He was generally very equable and good-tempered. But where any sort of art was concerned he naturally claimed to speak with authority.

      "Have you any theory, Gerald"--the Senator hesitated, "to account for the extraordinary discrepancy between the Poulains' story and what Mrs. Dampier asserts to be the case?"

      "Yes, father, I have a quite definite theory. I believe the Poulains are lying."

      The young man leant forward across the round table. He spoke very earnestly, but even as he spoke he lowered his voice, as if fearing to be overheard.

      Senator Burton glanced at the door. "You can speak quite openly," he said rather sharply. "You forget that there is the door of our appartement as well as a passage between this room and the staircase."

      "No, father, I don't forget that. But it would be quite easy for anyone to creep in. The Poulains have pass keys everywhere."

      "My dear boy, they don't understand English!"

      "Jules does, father. He knows far more English than he admits. At any rate he understands everything one says to him."

      Daisy broke in with a touch of impatience. "But with what object could the Poulains tell such a stupid and cruel untruth, one, too, which is sure to be found out very soon? If this Mr. Dampier did arrive here last night, well then, he did--if he didn't, he didn't!"

      "Yes, that's true," Gerald turned to his sister. "And though I've given a good deal of thought to it during the last few hours--I can't form any theory yet as to why the Poulains are lying. I only feel quite sure that they are."

      "It's a curious thing," observed the Senator musingly, "that neither of you saw this Mr. Dampier last night--curious, I mean, that he should have just stepped up into a cupboard, as Mrs. Dampier says he did, at the exact moment when you were outside the door."

      Neither of his children made any reply. That coincidence still troubled Daisy Burton.

      At last,--"I don't see that it's at all curious," exclaimed her brother hastily. "It's very unfortunate, of course, for if we had happened to see him the Poulains couldn't have told the tale they told you this morning."

      The Senator sighed. He was tired--tired of the long afternoon spent in doing nothing, and, to tell the truth, tired of the curious, inexplicable problem with which he had been battling since the morning.

      "Well, I say it with sincere regret, but I am inclined to believe the Poulains."

      "Father!" His son was looking at him with surprise and yes, indignation.

      "Yes, Gerald. I am, for the present, inclined not only to believe the Poulains' clear and consistent story, but to share Madame Poulain's view of the case--"

      "And what is her view?" asked Daisy eagerly.

      "Well, my dear, her view--the view, let me remind you, of a sensible woman who, I fancy, has seen a good deal of life--is that Mr. Dampier did accompany his wife here, as far as the hotel, that is. That then, as the result of what our good landlady calls a 'querelle d'amoureux,' he left her--knowing she would be quite safe of course in so respectable a place as the Hôtel Saint Ange."

      Daisy Burton only said one word--but that word was "Brute!" and her father saw that there was the light of battle in her eyes.

      "My dear," he said gently, "you forget that it was an Englishman who wrote 'The Taming of the Shrew.'"

      "And yet American girls--of a sort--are quite eager to marry Englishmen!"

      The Senator quickly pursued his advantage. "Now is it likely that Madame Poulain would make such a suggestion if she were not telling the truth? Of course her view is that this Mr. Dampier will turn up, safe and sound, when he thinks he has sufficiently punished his poor little wife for her share in their 'lovers' quarrel.'"

      But at this Gerald Burton shook his head. "We know nothing of this man Dampier," he said, "but I would stake my life on Mrs. Dampier's truthfulness."

      The Senator rose from his chair. Gerald's attitude was generous; he would not have had him otherwise but still he felt irritated by his son's suspicion of the Poulains.

      "Well, it's getting late, and I suppose we ought all to go to bed now, especially as they begin moving about so early in this place. As for you, my boy, I hope you've secured a good room outside, eh?"

      Gerald Burton also got up. He smiled and shook his head.

      "No, father, I haven't found a place at all yet! The truth is I've been so tremendously taken up with this affair that I forgot all about having to find a room to-night."

      "Oh dear!" cried Daisy in dismay. "Won't you find it very difficult? They say Paris is absolutely full just now. Why, a lot of people who have never let before are letting out rooms just now--so Madame Poulain says."

      "Don't worry about me. I shall be all right," said Gerald quickly. "I suppose my things have been moved into your room, father?"

      Daisy nodded. "Yes, I saw to all that. In fact I did more--" she smiled; the brother and sister were very fond of one another. "I packed your bag for you, Ger."

      "Thanks," he said. And then going quickly round the table, he bent down and kissed her. "I'll be in early to-morrow morning," he said, nodding to his father.

      Then he went out.

      Daisy Burton felt surprised. Gerald was the best of brothers, but he didn't often kiss her good-night. There had been a strange touch of excitement, of emotion, in his manner to-night. It was natural that she herself should be moved by Nancy Dampier's distress. But Gerald? Gerald, who was generally speaking rather nonchalant, and very, very critical of women?

      "Gerald's tremendously excited about this thing," said Daisy thoughtfully. She was two years younger in years than her brother, but older, as young women are apt to be older, in all that counts in civilised life. "I've never seen him quite so--so keen about anything before."

      "I hope he will have got a comfortable room," said the Senator a little crossly. Then fondly he turned and took his daughter's hand. "Sleep well, my darling," he said. "You two have been very kind to that poor little soul. And I love you both for it. Whatever happens, kindness is never lost."

      "Why, what d'you mean, father?" she looked down at him troubled, rather disturbed by his words.

      "Well, Daisy, the truth is,"--he hesitated--"I can't make out whether this Mrs.

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