Harriet went into the house and toward her own rooms; a maid met and stopped her on the stairs. "Mr. Santoine sent word that he wishes to see you as soon as you came in, Miss Santoine." Harriet went on toward her father's room, without stopping at her own--wet with the drive through the damp night and shivering now with its chill. Her father's voice answered her knock with a summons to come in. As she obeyed, pushing the doors open, he dismissed the nurse; the girl, passing Harriet as she went out, returned Harriet's questioning look with a reassuring nod; Basil Santoine had endured the shock and excitement of the night better than could have been expected; he was quite himself. As Harriet went toward the bed, her father's blind eyes turned toward her; he put out his hand and touched her, seeming startled to find her still in the robe she had worn an hour before and to feel that the robe was wet. "Where have you been, Daughter?" he asked. She hesitated, drawing the robe out of his hand. "I--I have been driving Mr. Eaton in a motor," she said. "Helping him to escape?" A spasm crossed the blind man's face. "He said not; he--he was following the men who shot Cousin Wallace." The blind man lay for an instant still. "Tell me," he commanded finally. She told him, beginning with her discovery of Eaton in the garage and ending with his leaving her and with Donald Avery's finding her in the motor; and now she held back one word only--his name which he had told her, Hugh. Her father listened intently; when she had finished, he made no move, no comment, no reproach. She had seated herself on the chair beside his bed; she looked away, then back to him. "That is not all," she said; and she told him of her expedition with Eaton to the ravine before the attack in the house. Again she waited. "You and Mr. Eaton appear to have become rather well acquainted, Harriet," he said. "Has he told you nothing about himself which you have not told me? You have seen nothing concerning him, which you have not told?" Her mind went quickly back to the polo game; she felt a flush, which his blind eyes could not see, dyeing her cheeks and forehead. "No," she answered. She was aware that he did not accept the denial, that he knew she was concealing something. "Nothing?" he asked again. She put her hands to her face; then she drew them quickly away. "Nothing," she said steadily. The blind man waited for a moment; he put out his hand and pressed the bell which called the steward. Neither spoke until the steward had come. "Fairley," Santoine said then, quietly, "Miss Santoine and I have just agreed that for the present all reports regarding the pursuit of the men who entered the study last night are to be made direct to me, not through Miss Santoine or Mr. Avery." "Very well, sir." She still sat silent after the steward had gone; she thought for an instant her father had forgotten her presence; then he moved slightly.