The screams of the mill saws followed him into the streets of the town, and at times it seemed as if their cries of conquering triumph took on something resembling entreaty or warning, but his hurrying feet did not falter, and soon he was ringing at the parsonage door. The white-capped maid answered and said she would find out if Miss Harting could see him. He entered and waited. He did not have to wait long before Janet appeared, his heartstrings giving a tug as he beheld her in a simple morning gown. In her blue eyes there was a look of wonder, not wholly free from apprehension. “I――I could hardly believe you were here――so early,” she said, scanning his face as if seeking to find there some explanation of this unusual call. “Has――has anything happened?” “I beg your pardon for coming at this hour,” he returned, “but I simply couldn’t wait. I hope you understand me and believe me, Janet, when I say that I am your sincere friend, something I hope to prove to your entire satisfaction. Taking the privilege of a friend whose motives cannot be questioned, I must tell you how much I regret having seen you yesterday with the man who calls himself Locke.” Her face did not harden, for there was nothing of hardness in her nature, but it changed, warning him that he was treading on most dangerous ground. She lifted her hand quickly, retreating a step. “If that is what brings you here, I am sorry you came. I met Mr. Locke quite by accident while out walking with the children. Jimmy Bryant cut his foot frightfully on a broken bottle, and Mr. Locke bound it up and brought him in to the doctor. I hardly know why I should make this explanation.” “You could not be seen with the man without arousing more or less comment, and you should know what the gossips of this town will say.” “Mr. Locke has satisfied me that he is a thorough gentleman, and unwarranted gossip of narrow-minded persons who are eager for something to talk about cannot frighten me.” The color was in her cheeks now. “A gentleman!” cried Bent, losing his head for a moment. “That two-faced sneak a gentleman! That man who has boasted already that, as you happen to be the prettiest girl in town, he proposes to amuse himself with you! He thinks himself a crusher, the sort that girls get stuck on. He has the post-card photograph of one now, who signs herself ‘Tid,’ doubtless a silly creature he has flattered and fooled with his lying tongue. And now he proposes to get you on the string and――” “Stop, Benton King!” Her cheeks had lost the flush, and there was something in her voice he had never heard before. “Whatever your motive, you are making a blunder. How do you know these things you are saying?” CHAPTER XXXVI CRUMBLED CASTLES