stand, and strange as it may sound, I've very little feeling in the matter." And then she acknowledged his stupefied stare with a weary smile. "I know what I know," she added, with obscure significance.…
"I'd give a good deal to know how much you know," he muttered in his confusion.
"But what do you know?" she caught him up—"against Mr. Bannon—against my father, that is—that makes you so ready to suspect both him and me?"
"Nothing," he confessed—"I know nothing; but I suspect everything and everybody. … And the more I think of it, the more closely I examine that brutal business of last night, the more I seem to sense his will behind it all—as one might glimpse a face in darkness through a lighted lattice. … Oh, laugh if you like! It sounds high-flown, I know. But that's the effect I get. … What took you to my room, if not his orders? Why does he train with De Morbihan, if he's not blood-kin to that breed? Why are you running away from him if not because you've found out his part in that conspiracy?"
His pause and questioning look evoked no answer; the girl sat moveless and intent, meeting his gaze inscrutably. And something in her impassive attitude worked a little exasperation into his temper.
"Why," he declared hotly—"if I dare trust to intuition—forgive me if I pain you—"
She interrupted with impatience: "I've already begged you not to consider my feelings, Mr. Lanyard! If you dared trust to your intuition—what then?"
"Why, then, I could believe that Mr. Bannon, your
