The sound of a girl's voice reached them as they went upstairs. They glanced at each other involuntarily, and Latimer's breath was sharply drawn. It was not the best preparation for calmness. A glowing small fire was burning in the stove, and, plain and bare as the room was, it was filled with the effect of brightness. Two beautiful young people were laughing together over a book, and both rose and turned eager faces towards the door. Big Tom rose, too, and, advancing to meet the visitors, brought the girl with him. She was built on long and supple lines, and had happy eyes and lovely bloom. The happy eyes were Margery's, though they were brown instead of harebell blue, and looked out from a face which was not quite Margery's, though its smile was hers. Latimer asked himself if it was possible that his manner wore the aspect of ordinary calm as he stood before her. Sheba wondered at the coldness of his hand as she took it. She was not attracted by his anxious face, and it must be confessed that his personality produced on her the effect it frequently produced on those meeting him for the first time. It was not he who was the great man, but she felt timid before him when he spoke to her. No one was shy of Baird. He produced his inevitable effect also. In a few minutes he had become the centre of the small company. He had made friends with Rupert, and launched Tom in conversation. Sheba was listening to him with a brightness of look charming to behold. They sat about the table and talked, and he led them all back to the mountains which had been seeming so far away. He wanted to hear of the atmosphere, the life, the people; and yet, as they answered his queries and related anecdotes, he was learning from each one something bearing on the story of the claim. When Tom spoke of Barnesville and Judge Rutherford, or Rupert of Delisleville and Matt, their conversation was guided in such manner that business details of the claim were part of what was said. It was Tom who realised this first and spoke of it. "We are talking of our own business as if it was the one subject on earth," he said. "That's the worst of people with a claim. I've seen a good many of them since I've been in Washington--and we are all alike." "I have been asking questions because the subject interests me, too," said Baird. "More people than yourselves discuss it. It formed a chief topic of conversation when I dined with Senator Milner, two nights ago." "Milner!" said Tom. "He was the man who had not time to hear me in the morning." "His daughter, Mrs. Meredith, was inquiring about you. She wanted to hear the story. I shall tell it to her." "Ah!" exclaimed Tom; "if _you_ tell it, it will have a chance." "Perhaps," Baird laughed. "I may be able to help you. A man who is used to audiences might be of some practical value." He met Sheba's eyes by accident. A warm light leaped into them.