I held my peace. The woman was leaning over towards me now. She seemed to have lost the desire to attract. Her voice had grown sharper and less pleasant, her carefully arranged hair was in some disorder, and the telltale blue veins by her temples and the crow's feet under her eyes were plainly visible. Her face seemed suddenly to have become pinched and wan, the flaming light in her strangely coloured eyes was a convincing assertion of her earnestness. She was not acting now, though what lay behind the storm I could not tell. "You seem afraid to talk to me," she exclaimed. "Why? I have done you no harm!" "Perhaps not," I answered, "yet I cannot see what we gain by raking up this miserable history. It is both painful and profitless." "I will say no more," she declared, with a sudden note of dignity in her tone. "I can see that I am judged already in your mind. After all, it does not really matter. No one likes to be thought worse of than they deserve, and women are all--a little foolish. But at least you must answer me one question. I have the right to ask it. You must tell me where he is." "Where who is?" I asked. Again her eyes flamed upon inc. Her lips parted a little, and I could see the white glimmer of her teeth. "Oh, you shall not fence with me like a baby!" she exclaimed. "Tell me, or lie to me, or refuse to tell me! Which is it?" "Upon my honour," I said, looking at her curiously, "I have no idea whom you mean!" She looked at inc steadily for several moments, her lips parted, her breath seeming to come sharply between her teeth. "I mean your father," she said. "Whom else should I mean?" CHAPTER XX TWO TO ONE I looked across at the woman, who was waiting my answer with every appearance of feverish interest. "What should I know about him?" I said slowly. "I have been told that he is dead. I know no more than that." She started as though my words had stung her. "It is not possible!" she exclaimed. "I must have heard of it. When he left me--it was less than three months ago--he seemed better than I had known him for years." "All my life," I said, "I have understood that my father died by his own hand after his disgrace. To-night for the first time I was told that this was not the fact. I understood, from what my informant said, that he had died recently." She drew a sharp breath between her teeth, and suddenly struck the cushioned arm of the carriage by her side with her clenched hand. "It is a lie!" she declared. "Whoever told you so, it is a lie!" "Do you mean that he is not dead?" I exclaimed. "Do you mean that you have not seen him yourself--within the last few months?" she demanded fiercely. "He left me to come to you on the first day of the New Year." "I have never seen him to my knowledge in my life," I answered.