"I want to talk to you for a few minutes," he said, "without all these fellows round. Should you mind coming down into the smoking-room?" The Colonel rose promptly from his seat. "Not a bit in the world," he declared. "We'll go into the smoking-room. Scarcely a soul there. Much cooler, too. Bring your drink. See you boys later." They found two easy-chairs in the smoking-room, of which they were the sole occupants. The Colonel cut off the end of his cigar and made himself comfortable. "Now, my young friend," he said, "proceed." Wrayson did not beat about the bush. "It's about your daughter Louise, Colonel," he said. "She won't marry me!" The Colonel pinched his cigar reflectively. "She always was a most peculiar girl," he affirmed. "Does she give any reasons?" "That's just what she won't do," Wrayson explained. "That's just why I've come to you. I--I--Colonel, I'm fond of her. I never expected to feel like it about any woman." The Colonel nodded sympathetically. "And although it may sound conceited to say so," Wrayson continued, "I believe--no! I'm sure that she's fond of me. She's admitted it. There!" The Colonel smiled understandingly. "Well." he said, "then where's the trouble? You don't want my consent. You know that." "Louise won't marry me," Wrayson repeated. "That's the trouble. She won't explain her attitude. She simply declares that marriage for her is an impossibility." The Colonel sighed. "I'm afraid," he murmured, regretfully, "that my daughter is a fool." "She is anything but that," Wrayson declared. "She has some scruple. What it is I can't imagine. Of course, at first I thought it was because we were, both of us, involved in that Morris Barnes affair. But I know now that it isn't that. Heneage, who threatened me, and indirectly her, has chucked the whole business. Such danger as there was is over. I--" "Interrupting you for one moment," the Colonel said quietly, "what has become of Heneage?" "He's in a very queer way," Wrayson answered. "You know he started on hot to solve this Morris Barnes business. He warned us both to get out of the country. Well, I saw him last night, and he was a perfect wreck. He looked like a man just recovering from a bout of dissipation, or something of the sort." "Did you speak to him?" the Colonel asked. "I was with him some time," Wrayson answered. "His manner was just as changed as his appearance." The Colonel was looking, for him, quite grave. His cigar had gone out, and he forgot to relight it. "Dear me," he said, "I am sorry to hear this. Did he allude to the Morris Barnes affair at all?" "He did," Wrayson answered. "He gave me to understand, in fact, that he had discovered a little more than he wanted to." The Colonel stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigar. "You believe, then," he said, "that Heneage has succeeded in solving the mystery of Barnes' murder, and is keeping the knowledge to himself?" "That was the conclusion I came to," Wrayson admitted.