“And accept it, I hope”--yielding with a laugh--“if I am late to-morrow at the Office.” “Let me get you a cup of tea or something.” He pressed a bell. “I’m going to have a whisky and soda myself.” Helen declined refreshment. To the servant who entered Mr. Hartz said: “Please tell Jennings the brougham will be wanted in half an hour.” Duly armed with a “nightcap” which contained a great deal more soda than whisky the Colossus sat cosily down by the fire immediately opposite Helen. A man of fifty-two, his manner towards this singularly attractive woman of six-and-twenty was so whimsically, yet frankly, paternal, that something beyond disparity of years seemed necessary to sustain it. An odd sensation, unlike anything she had ever felt before, came subtly upon Helen. This man’s personality was geared very high, but unlike that of John Endor it seemed to be a fixed quantity, not liable to fluctuate. In his case the nerves didn’t show. To talk to, when he chose, he was delightful. Just now, perhaps half deliberately, he chose. If the question was not impertinent, why was she concerned so particularly for John Endor’s reputation? Her shrewdness had allowed her to foresee that such a question might arise. She was half prepared to answer it. As the necessity came, however, she yielded to a slight embarrassment which did not make her attraction less. “We are going to be married.” Saul Hartz gave a sharp upthrow of the head. “Lucky fellow!” The words of the Colossus were almost as quick as thought itself. “Devilish lucky fellow! I _do_ congratulate him--upon my word!” The purr of the gentle voice had a warmth of overtone that in the ear of Helen was delicious. She felt the blood pass over her cheeks in a wave. Such a voice as that must have opened the heart of any woman. He had the power, when he chose, of simulating an intense humanity. “Won’t you congratulate me?” she ventured. “Why, of course--of course.” The purr had not changed and yet, in a way that almost impinged on the mysteries of counterpoint, she was made to guess rather than to feel that a vital something was no longer there. _Madness in the mother’s family._ Those five words descended upon her from the upper air. Almost in the same instant the open book on her knee slid to the carpet. She had not time to recover the book before Mr. Hartz was on his feet politely restoring it to her. “Clever, you know.” He seemed to think aloud. “A mind at work there.” The book was placed loverly in her hand. “Only one hopes----” Sighing delicately he returned to his chair. His air had now become that of one who has to reconcile a very good heart with the sterner impulses of duty. “You hope?” She caught up the broken phrase with an eagerness that was a little pitiful. “Nothing, nothing.” She shivered slightly. _Madness in the mother’s family._