If Copplestone had never seen Addie Chatfield before, if he had not known that she was an actress of some acknowledged ability, her entrance into that suddenly silent room would have convinced him that here was a woman whom nature had undoubtedly gifted with the dramatic instinct. Addie's presentation of herself to the small and select audience was eminently dramatic, without being theatrical. She filled the stage. It was as if the lights had suddenly gone down in the auditorium and up in the proscenium, as if a hush fell, as if every ear opened wide to catch a first accent. And Addie's first accents were soft and liquid--and accompanied by a smile which was calculated to soften the seven hearts which had begun to beat a little quicker at her coming. With the smile and the soft accent came a highly successful attempt at a shy and modest blush which mounted to her cheek as she moved towards the centre table and bowed to the startled and inquisitive eyes. "I have come to ask--mercy!" There was a faint sigh of surprise from somebody. Sir Cresswell Oliver, only realizing that a pretty woman, had entered the room, made haste to place a chair for her. But before Addie could respond to his old-fashioned bow, Mr. Petherton was on his legs. "Er!--I take it that this is the young wom--the Miss Chatfield of whom we have had occasion to speak a good deal today," he said very stiffly. "I think, Sir Cresswell--eh?" "Yes," said Sir Cresswell, glancing from the visitor to the old lawyer. "You think, Petherton--yes?" "The situation is decidedly unpleasant," said Mr. Petherton, more icily than ever. "Mr. Vickers will agree with me that it is most unpleasant--and very unusual. The fact is--the police are now searching for this--er, young lady." "But I am here!" exclaimed Addie. "Doesn't that show that I'm not afraid of the police. I came of my own free will--to explain. And--to ask you all to be merciful." "To whom?" demanded Mr. Petherton. "Well--to my father, if you want to know," replied Addie, with another softening glance. "Come now, all of you, what's the good of being so down on an old man who, after all hasn't got so very long to live? There are two of you here who are getting on, you know--it doesn't become old men to be so hard. Good doctrine, that, anyway--isn't it, Sir Cresswell?" Sir Cresswell turned away, obviously disconcerted; when he looked round again, he avoided the eyes of the young men and glanced a little sheepishly at Mr. Petherton. "It seems to me, Petherton," he said, "that we ought to hear what Miss Chatfield has to say. Evidently she comes to tell us--of her own free will--something. I should like to know what that something is. I think Mrs. Greyle would like to know, too." "Decidedly!" exclaimed Mrs. Greyle, who was watching the central figure with great curiosity. "I should indeed, like to know--especially if Miss Chatfield proposes to tell us something about her father."