"This Hebler is some one you have met before?" he asked, looking at her keenly. "Yes; did I show it so plainly? I don't want to see him, or let him know I am here." "You are afraid of him?" "Y-e-s." "He has some power over you--the power to take you away?" "Yes; a power prior to yours." "A legal one?" "Yes." "You can keep to your room," he said reassuringly. "That is, for the afternoon. Westcott has invited Mr. Kingdon and this man to dinner and for cards afterward. You can easily stay away from the breakfast room in the morning. I think he is going to leave in a day or so. I'll think up some excuse for your not appearing." "Oh!" she said whimsically. "You will--lie for me?" He flushed. "I want Mrs. Kingdon to be your custodian--not this man." "So do I," she said. "But I forget I am in custody up here." "I am wondering," he said in a troubled tone, "how we can prevent the children from speaking of you before this man? And Kingdon, too, is sure to mention your name." "Oh, that will do no harm. He won't know whom they mean. He doesn't know me by my own name. I told you I had a great many convenient aliases. Remember?" "Yes," he replied shortly. "I remember." She went to her room, and presently Marta came in with her luncheon, some books and a message of sympathy from Kingdon. In spite of these distractions, time dragged and it was with a sigh of relief that she saw Kingdon and his guest motoring toward Westcott's. "Poor old Hebby! Just as hawk-nosed and lynx-eyed as ever. The last place he'd think of looking for me would be behind these curtains. It's worth being a prisoner for an afternoon to know I have eluded him once more." When she came down to dinner, Kurt was again visibly impressed by her appearance. She wore another of her recently acquired gowns, a black one of sheer filmy material. Her hair, rippling back from her brows, was coiled low. Her face was pale and yet young and flowerlike. There was a new touch of wistfulness about her--a charm of repose, almost of dignity. Later, when the children had gone upstairs, she went into the dimly lighted sitting-room and sat down at the piano, touching softly and lightly the notes of a minor melody, an erratic little air rising and falling in a succession of harmonies. "Pen!" She turned exquisite eyes to Kurt's ardent gaze. "I like you in this dress. I didn't know dress could so alter a person." There was the tone of unrepressed admiration in his voice. "Hebby is right," she thought with a fleeting smile. "He said there was something very effective about black to men--especially to men who know nothing about clothes." "I must ask you something," he continued, speaking in troubled tone. "This man Hebler--does he know--" She stopped playing. "He knows me as you know me, as the thief, and he knows--something else about me." Her fingers again found their way to the keys.