“There are others who agree with the doctor and the judge and Mrs. Vanderpool,” continued the girl. “You mean about my having a screw loose?” “Exactly.” Crisply. “And some of them have consulted me.” “And what did you say?” Quickly. “I’m afraid I couldn’t enlighten them. I believe I suggested that sun theory—although it really wasn’t blistering hot to-day, and you,” with inimitable irony, “look capable of standing a little sunshine.” “Yes, I feel as if I could stand a whole lot,” said Bob gloomily. “Also I said,” unmindful of this last remark, “there is sometimes a method in eccentricity, or madness. Lord Stanfield agreed with me. He said he found you an ‘interesting young man.’” “Did he? Confound his impudence!” That monocle-man certainly did ruffle Bob. “You forget he’s an old friend of my aunt’s.” Severely. “As I was saying, Lord Stanfield found you ‘interesting,’ and we agreed there might be a method,” studying him closely, “but when we came to search for one, we couldn’t find it.” She didn’t ask a question, so he didn’t have to reply. “Mr. Bennett, why did you answer me like that down in the village?” Bob hung his head. He felt worse than a boy detected stealing apples. “Had to,” he muttered desperately. “Why?” There was no mercy in that still pitiless voice. Bob took another long breath. “Please don’t ask me,” he pleaded after an ominous pause. That wasn’t not telling the truth; it was only temporizing. The violet eyes gleamed dangerously. “I’m just a little bit curious,” said the girl in the same annihilating tone. “In the light of subsequent proceedings, you will understand! And as Mrs. Ralston’s niece! Aunt doesn’t quite realize things yet. The others have spared her feelings. I haven’t, of course, gone to her. Aunt and I never ‘talk over’ our guests.” Proudly. That made Bob wince. He looked at her with quite helpless eyes. “Maybe she will order me off the premises before long,” he said eagerly. “I have already been considering the possibility of it. Believe me,” earnestly, “it would be the best way. Can’t you see I’m—dangerous—positively dangerous? I’m worse than a socialist—an anarchist! Why, a Russian nihilist couldn’t make half the trouble in the world that I can. I’m a regular walking disturber. Disaster follows in my path.” Bitterly. “Some people look upon me as worse than the black plague. Now if your aunt would only turn me out? You see I can’t go unless she does. Got to think of that even-tenor-of-my-way! But if she would only quietly intimate—or set the dog on me—”