"Let me introduce my friend," he said, mumbling something. Juliet did not catch the name, but she supposed that this was Mr. Ince. The other man stepped forward and shook hands, but said nothing. He was a thin, pallid creature, rather above the average height, and had the drooping shoulders of a scholar. His face, which was long and narrow, looked pale and emaciated, and though his blue eyes had a kindly twinkle it seemed to Juliet that they burned with a feverish brightness. His nose was long and slightly hooked, and beneath it the mouth was hidden by a heavy red moustache; while his hair, though not of so bright a colour, had a reddish tinge about it. He appeared to be about fifty years of age, but this was due to a look of tiredness habitual to his expression, and, in part, to actual bad health. In reality he was younger. "Pray take this chair, Miss Byrne," Mr. Findlay was saying. "We are anxious to have a little conversation with you. I am sure you quite understand that we should not have asked you to come all the way from Belgium unless your presence was of considerable importance. How important it is I really hardly know myself, but I repeat that I would not have urged you to take so long a journey if I had not had serious reason to think that it was desirable for your own sake that you should do so. I may say at once that the matter is a family one; but before going further I must ask your permission to put one or two questions to you, which I hope you will believe are not prompted by any feeling of idle curiosity on my part." He paused, and Juliet murmured some words of acquiescence. Mr. Findlay took off his eyeglasses, glared at them, replaced them, and ran his nose over the surface of the papers on his writing-table. "Ah, here it is!" he exclaimed triumphantly, pouncing on a folded sheet and lifting it to his eyes. "Just a few notes," he explained. "We wrote you care of Sir Arthur Byrne," he resumed; "are you a member of his family?" Here was a disturbing question for Juliet. She had imagined, until this instant, that she was on the point of being told who her family was, and now this man was asking for information from her. Tears of disappointment would not be kept from her eyes. "I am a member of Sir Arthur's household," she stammered. "Are you not his daughter, then?" asked Mr. Findlay. "No, I am not really," Juliet replied. "Then may I ask what relation you are to him?" said the lawyer. "I am his adopted daughter," said Juliet. "I have always called him 'Father.'" "Are you not any relation at all?" pursued Mr. Findlay. "I believe not." "Then, Miss Byrne, I hope you will not think it an impertinent question if I ask, who are you?" "I don't know," acknowledged poor Juliet. "I was hoping you would tell me that. I thought, I imagined, that that was why you sent for me." "You astonish me," said Mr. Findlay. "Do you mean to say that your family has never made any attempt to communicate with you?" "No, never."