"This won't do for me," he said. "So long, King," and he started precipitately for the door. One backward glance at his host, who was still standing with feet wide apart and thumbs hooked in his vest, gave him pause. King's face showed so plainly the battle he had fought. Freddy returned and took Bertram's hand and wrung it. "Do you know, I was sure you wanted Linda," he said, with sudden frankness. King's slender fingers gave his a viselike grip, and his lips smiled calmly. "It isn't so much a question of what we want as what she wants, is it?" he said. A cloud passed over Whitcomb's face, and again Bertram thought he could see exactly how Freddy had looked at the age of ten. "Don't you believe she'll ever want me?" he asked naïvely. Now that he knew King was out of the running--whether from mercenary reasons or otherwise--he could put the question as to an intimate friend of the family. King laughed softly for the first time since Lambert Barry's death. "Don't know, Freddy. If I were a girl I'd want you, I know that. You're all right." Whitcomb blushed and scowled; and as he took the elevator on its downward trip he reflected on Bertram King's power to irritate his fellowman. * * * * * Ensconced in their stateroom on the train for Boston, Miss Barry heaved a sigh of relief scarcely concealed by the mutter of the moving wheels. They had not taken a stateroom without protest from Linda on the ground of extravagance. Linda considering economy! It was a wonderful circumstance; but Miss Barry, anxious as she was to be gone, delayed their departure a few days to secure the room. Instinctively she felt that a door which she could close on her niece would give her a sense of security. She regarded her now, while the train gained swiftness, with something of the triumph the captor of an elusive, valuable wild animal might feel at seeing it safely in his possession. Linda, passive and white, did not resemble a wild creature at the present moment. The first thing she did after the train started was to withdraw the pin from the huge bunch of violets she had put on to please Whitcomb, and toss them over on the divan. Miss Barry, taking off her hat, watched her furtively. "Put my hat in the bag when you do yours, will you, Linda?" The girl looked vaguely surprised. It was long since she had performed a service for any one, and she even held her own hat a moment uncertainly, after she had removed it, as if she expected her aunt to take charge of it; and she looked at Miss Belinda questioningly. "Yes, put them both in, and hang them up over there." Miss Barry handed her the bags, leaned back in her corner, and sniffed. A dog wags its tail to express emotion. Miss Belinda sniffed--a dry, sharp little sound, which just now expressed determination. "It's time for her to give up sleep-walking," she thought, and she looked industriously out of the window.