"Indeed, I wish you would, and I will gladly satisfy your curiosity. There is not much to tell of Hetherford save that Jean has gone to Europe." She tried to mention her sister's name quite naturally, but the color rose to her face, and she could not bring herself to look at her companion. "To Europe?" he echoed, and could think of nothing further to say. "I will tell you all about it when we are inside," Helen said to him rather flurriedly. In a moment more they found themselves in a softly lighted room, the walls of which were lined with paintings. A few people, catalogue in hand, were slowly walking about or standing in groups of two or three before some painting of more than usual merit. Helen gained courage to raise her eyes to her companion's face, and something in its expression made her direct her steps at once toward a huge red ottoman which occupied the center of the room. "Shall we sit down here and have our talk first?" her voice softly interrogated. "You can show me the pictures afterward." Farr looked at her gratefully. "It would be my wish, Miss Helen, but you mustn't let me bore you." For answer, Helen seated herself and motioned him to take the place beside her. "Jean went to Europe in October. She had not been at all well, and----" "Not well?" he interrupted her with an anxious face. "In fact, she was quite ill," Helen went on gravely, "and she had an opportunity to join some friends of ours who were over there, so we sent her in the hope that the change would benefit her." "And how is she now?" "Somewhat better, I think, but not very strong yet." "I am deeply grieved," he answered, in a voice which his best efforts could not keep very steady. There was a brief silence, during which Farr's eyes were fixed moodily on the carpet. "I called to see your sister," he began at length, "the day before we left Hetherford, but she excused herself." "I don't think Jean knew of your visit." "You are mistaken," he returned bitterly. "The servant who admitted me had received orders that Miss Jean would not see me, and she made that fact patent to me beyond the possibility of any doubt." "I cannot help that," said Helen, her determination to pursue the subject struggling against a sudden timidity. "I am sure you are wrong. I remember the afternoon perfectly. Nathalie and I had been to the inn, and when we reached home I found Jean on the sofa in her room, and I asked her if anyone had called, and she said 'no.'" A puzzled expression crossed Farr's face. "It is very strange. Why, Miss Helen, I wrote and asked your sister if she would see me, and she replied that she would be at home at the hour I mentioned in my note." All at once there flashed through Helen's mind a recollection which suggested a most cruel suspicion. Farr was looking straight at her, his honest eyes demanding an honest answer.