"So!" Von Fincke elevated his eyebrows, and his smile was not pleasant. CHAPTER XXI THE FINGER PRINT Kathleen Whitney breathed inward thanks when dinner was over. It had been a trying ordeal on top of an agonizing day. Cloistered in her room with only her sad thoughts for company, she had been relieved to find that Miss Kiametia Grey had been prevailed upon by Mrs. Whitney to prolong her afternoon visit to include a family dinner. But the spinster's endeavor to divert her by relating society gossip finally palled, and she permitted her thoughts to stray to other scenes. "Did you receive your invitation to the Morton reception, Kathleen?" asked Miss Kiametia, breaking off her conversation with Mrs. Whitney with her customary abruptness, and startling Kathleen back to the present. "Yes--no; I don't know," was her confused reply. "It is here." Mrs. Whitney went into the library and returned with a large envelope. "What night?" Miss Kiametia took the card and examined its heavily embossed surface with interest. "_Nouveau riche_ stamped all over it, as well as R.S.V.P.--'Real Slick Vittles, People,'" and she laughed disdainfully. "All the trimmings." Mrs. Whitney replaced the card in its envelope. "I have written our regrets. I understand the reception is given to announce the engagement of Mona Morton to some South American Monte Cristo." "Speaking of engagements," Whitney turned to the spinster, "what about you and Randall Foster, Kiametia?" "I shall never marry." Miss Kiametia's half bantering tone dropped, and the eyes she turned to Kathleen were shadowed with a haunting regret. "The habits of a life-time cannot be broken." "Oh, Kiametia!" exclaimed Mrs. Whitney in open disappointment. "Senator Foster is splendid--and I had hoped--_why_ do you discourage his attentions?" "Can't stand the way he wears his hair," announced Miss Kiametia with an air of finality which warned against further discussion. "Marry him and make him change his barber," advised Whitney rising. "I have to go out, Minna; you and Kathleen must not wait up for me. Good night, Kiametia; Henry is downstairs, he can take you home in the car, if you wish. See you tomorrow," and he moved toward the door. After a brief hesitation Kathleen followed him into the hall. "Must you go out, Dad?" she asked helping him with his overcoat. "It is still stormy tonight, and I feel lonely"--her voice broke, and turning Whitney impulsively took her in his arms. "My darling little girl." He stopped and steadied his voice as he kissed her tenderly. "There, don't worry, trust old Dad to put things straight--as he did your broken dollies. Go early to bed, dear, and get some rest." "Rest!" Kathleen strove to suppress all trace of bitterness. "Now, don't have me on your mind; come home early," and she returned his kiss and went slowly back into the drawing-room, as the front door closed after her father.