Presently John Temple rose from his easy chair and flung the remains of his last cigarette into the grate, and having lit a new one began walking restlessly up and down the long room, and Mrs. Temple's dark eyes followed his tall, slight form as he did so. "What are you thinking of, John?" at last she asked. "Can't tell," he answered somewhat listlessly; "the wind disquiets me, I think." "It is a storm," she said, and then she also rose, and went first to one of the windows of the room and looked out. Presently she turned around and joined John Temple, and slid her hand through his arm and began walking by his side. She had scarcely done this, however, when they both heard the sound of carriage wheels approaching up the avenue, and a minute or so later the hall doorbell rang. "What a bore!" exclaimed John Temple. "If it is any visitors, say I'm out." "Very well," she answered, but still remained by his side. A few moments later, however, a footman rapped at the room door and then entered, carrying a salver on which lay a card, which he presented to his new master. John Temple put out his hand carelessly and took it up, but the instant he saw the printed name a quick change came over his face. "Who is it?" asked Mrs. Temple, sharply, who had noticed the change. "A man I wish to see--you may show him in here," he went on, addressing the footman; "and perhaps you," and he looked at Mrs. Temple, "if you do not mind--" "You wish me to go?" said Mrs. Temple, quickly. "Very well, I will--only do nothing rash." John Temple made no answer to this, and then Mrs. Temple quitted the room, and in the hall she passed a tall, dark man, who was being ushered to the library by the footman. And a moment later Ralph Webster entered the room. He bowed gravely to John Temple, who also bowed, and a slight flush rose to his face as he did so. "You are Mr. John Temple, I presume?" then said Webster. "I am." "I have come on a strange errand, Mr. Temple," continued Webster; "but I have come because I believe it to be my duty to do so. I am the nephew of two ladies whom you used to know; of the ladies to whose care you confided the young lady whom you afterward married from their house." John Temple bowed his head; his face contracted as if with pain. "I understand," he said in a low tone. "Have--have you anything to tell me?" Webster hesitated for a moment and then went on. "I knew this young lady; I met her at my aunts', and I knew you also by name, and had been told of your marriage. But in the course of my professional career I met another lady--Miss Kathleen Weir--and from her I learned the early history of her life and her connection with you." Temple's lip curled. "Has she sent you to me?" he said. "I presume you know she came here, and wished to make some arrangement?" "Yes, I know," answered Webster, gravely. "No, she has not sent me here--Miss Kathleen Weir is dead." "Dead! impossible!" cried John Temple, and his face grew pale.