Helen, whose eyes had never left his face, and had followed his retiring figure, was frightened at the weight of the blow she had struck; and strange thoughts and conjectures filled her mind. Hitherto, she had felt sure Robert Penfold was under a delusion as to Arthur Wardlaw, and that his suspicions were as unjust as they certainly were vague. Yet now, at the name of Robert Penfold, Arthur turned pale, and fled like a guilty thing. This was a coincidence that confirmed her good opinion of Robert Penfold, and gave her ugly thoughts of Arthur. Still, she was one very slow to condemn a friend, and too generous and candid to condemn on suspicion; so she resolved as far as possible to suspend her unfavorable judgment of Arthur, until she should have asked him why this great emotion, and heard his reply. Moreover, she was no female detective, but a pure creature bent on clearing innocence. The object of her life was, not to discover the faults of Arthur Wardlaw, or any other person, but to clear Robert Penfold of a crime. Yet Arthur's strange behavior was a great shock to her; for here, at the very outset, he had somehow made her feel she must hope for no assistance from him. She sighed at this check, and asked herself to whom she should apply first for aid. Robert had told her to see his counsel, his solicitor, his father, and Mr. Undercliff, an expert, and to sift the whole matter. Not knowing exactly where to begin, she thought she would, after all, wait a day or two to give Arthur time to recover himself, and decide calmly whether he would co-operate with her or not. In this trying interval, she set up a diary--for the first time in her life; for she was no egotist. And she noted down what we have just related, only in a very condensed form, and wrote at the margin: _Mysterious._ Arthur never came near her for two whole days. This looked grave. On the third day she said to General Rolleston: "Papa, _you_ will help me in the good cause--will you not?" He replied that he would do what he could, but feared that would be little. "Will you take me down to Elmtrees, this morning?" "With all my heart." He took her down to Elmtrees. On the way she said: "Papa, you must let me get a word with Mr. Wardlaw alone." "Oh, certainly. But, of course, you will not say a word to hurt his feelings." "Oh, papa!" "Excuse me. But, when a person of your age is absorbed with one idea, she sometimes forgets that other people have any feelings at all." Helen kissed him meekly, and said that was too true; and she would be upon her guard. To General Rolleston's surprise, his daughter no sooner saw old Wardlaw than she went--or seemed to go--into high spirits, and was infinitely agreeable. But at last she got him all to herself, and then she turned suddenly grave, and said: "Mr. Wardlaw, I want to ask you a question. It is something about Robert Penfold."