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Silva laid a hand tenderly upon the bowed head, as though in benediction, but I could have sworn there was unholy triumph in his eyes. I caught but a glimpse of it, for he veiled them instantly and bowed his head, and his lips moved as if in prayer. The kneeling figure was quivering with sobs; I could hear them in her throat; and my heart turned sick as I saw how she permitted his caressing touch. Then, suddenly, she sprang, erect, and, without a glance at me, hurried from the room.

There was silence for a moment, then Silva arose and faced me.

"You see how it is, Mr. Lester," he said.

"Yes," I answered drily, "I see how it is."

I refolded the will, slipped it back into its envelope, restored it to the drawer, made sure that all the packets were there, too, replaced the drawer in the safe, closed the door, twirled the knob, swung the shelves into place in front of it, and finally, my self-control partially regained, turned back to Silva.

"Well," I said, and my voice sounded very flat, "let us sit down and talk it over."

He wheeled his chair around to face me and sat down. I looked at him in silence for a moment. The man was virile, dominant; there was in his aspect something impressive and compelling. Small wonder this child of nineteen had found herself unable to stand against him!

"I know what is in your mind," he said, at last. "But, after all, it was her father's wish. That should weigh with you."

"Her father was mad."

"I deny it. He was very sane. He found the Way, and he has set her feet upon it."

"What way?" I demanded. "Where does it lead?"

"The Way of life. It leads to peace and happiness."

He uttered the words as with finality; but I shrugged them impatiently away.

"Don't float off into your mysticism," I said. "Let us keep our feet on the earth. You may be sincere, or you may not--it is impossible for me to say. But I know this--it is not fair to that child to take her at her word. She doesn't realise what she is doing. I don't know what it is you plan for her, but before you do anything, she must have a chance to find herself. She must be taken out of this atmosphere into a healthier one, until she has rallied from the shock of her father's death, and emerged from the shadow of his influence. She must have time to get back her self-control. Then, if she chooses to return, well and good."

"To all your 'musts,' Mr. Lester," retorted Silva, "I can only say that I am willing. I have not lifted a finger to detain her. But what if she will not go?"

"Then she must be made to go."

"Another 'must'!" he rejoined lightly. "I would remind you that she is mistress of her own actions. Neither you nor I can compel her to do anything she does not wish to do. It has been a great happiness to me that she has chosen as she has; it would have been a great sorrow to me had she decided differently. But I should have acquiesced. Now it is for you to acquiesce. After all, what claim have you upon her?"

"I admit that I have no claim," I said, more calmly. "But there is one who has a claim, and to whom she is bound to listen."

"You refer, no doubt, to that misguided young man who is now in prison."

"I refer to Frederic Swain, yes," I retorted hotly. "It is true he is in prison. And how did he get there? By coming when she called him; by trying to assist her."

"Was it assisting her to kill her father?" queried Silva, and his lips were curled with scorn.

I paused a moment to make sure of my self-control, for it seemed to be slipping from me.

"Senor Silva," I said, at last, "how her father came to his death I do not know; but I do know that Swain had no hand in it."

"Yet he is in prison," he reminded me.

"Innocent men have been in prison before this. I will get him out."

"By what means?"

"By finding the real murderer!" I said, and looked at him with eyes which I know were bloodshot.

He returned my gaze steadily.

"So you think I am the murderer?" he asked, quietly.

I got a grip of myself--I saw that I had gone too far.

"I do not know what to think," I answered. "I am seeking light. In any