The Colonel smoked for a moment or two in thoughtful silence. "Well," he said, "it isn't like Heneage. I always looked upon him as a man without nerves, a man who would carry through any purpose he set himself to, without going to pieces about it. Shows how difficult it is to understand the most obvious of us." Wrayson nodded. "But after all," he said, "it wasn't to talk about Heneage that I brought you down here. What I want to know, Colonel, is if you can help me at all with Louise." The Colonel's forehead was furrowed with perplexity. "My dear Herbert," he declared, "there is no man in the world I would sooner have for a son-in-law. But what can I do? Louise wouldn't listen to me in any case. I haven't any authority or any influence over her. I say it to my sorrow, but it's the truth. If it were my little girl down at home, now, it would be a different matter. But Louise has taken her life into her own hands. She has not spoken to me for years. She certainly would not listen to my advice." "Then if you cannot help me directly, Colonel," Wrayson continued, "can you help me indirectly? I have asked you a question something like this before, but I want to repeat it. I have told you that Louise refuses to marry me. She has something on her mind, some scruple, some fear. Can you form any idea as to what it may be?" The Colonel was silent for an unusually long time. He was leaning back in his chair, looking up through the cloud of blue tobacco smoke to the ceiling. In reflection his features seemed to have assumed a graver and somewhat weary expression. "Yes!" he said at last, "I think that I can." Wrayson felt his heart jump. His eyes were brighter. An influx of new life seemed to have come to him. He leaned forward eagerly. "You will tell me what it is, Colonel?" he begged. The Colonel looked at him with a queer little smile. "I am not sure that I can do that, Herbert," he said. "I am not sure that it would help you if I did. And you are asking me rather more than you know." Wrayson felt a little chill of discouragement. "Colonel," he said, "I am in your hands. But I love your daughter, and I swear that I would make her happy." The Colonel looked at his watch. "Do you know where Louise is?" he asked quietly. "Number 17, Frederic Mansions, Battersea," Wrayson answered. The Colonel rose to his feet. "I will go down and see her," he said simply. "You had better wait here for me. I will come straight back." "Colonel, you're a brick," Wrayson declared, walking with him towards the door. "I'll do my best, Herbert," he answered quietly, "but I can't promise. I can't promise anything."