Her movement aroused him. With a yawn he opened his eyes and glanced about stupidly as though he could not quite remember where he was. “Really, I beg your pardon,” he said with lazy politeness. “But the heat made me drowsy. Positively I could not keep my eyes open.” He thought it about time to bring matters to a crisis. He drew himself together and made ready to terminate the interview. “How much can you let me have? I am aware that your bankers won't remit for a while yet, but can't you do something for me temporarily? As you see, I am abominably shabby and it's no way for a gentleman to appear.” “How much do you need?” Margaret asked. Geoff promptly dropped the whine in which he had previously spoken, becoming suddenly and wonderfully buoyant. “Oh! a few hundreds. I'll spend them well, and I'll agree not to bother you again until your money gets here. I'll hang about quietly until it comes, then you can fix me up and I will bolt the place. Now I call that fair—and you would better”—he grew strangely sinister—“you would better do as I ask or you may get let in for more than the mere loss of cash.” “I will go to Russell and learn what can be spared.” “The old cat!” Margaret left the room. In the hall she encountered Perkins. “I was coming to find you,” he said. “It's nearly dinner-time and dark as the deuce. I say,” in surprise, “is anything the matter?” For Madame Dennie's face was more than unusually pale—more than unusually sad. “Where are you going, Ballard?” “Into the library. That is I was going there, but if you don't mind, I'll just go along with you.” “Instead will you do me a service?” Perkins instantly made a gesture of assent. “Whatever you ask,” he said eagerly. “It's very little. Please don't be curious, and don't allow your mother or the servants to enter the library while I am up-stairs.” Perkins seemed mystified and she added: “Some one is there, some one I would rather not have you see.” At this his face cleared. He made haste to say, “I shall do exactly as you ask. Nobody shall enter the library until you are willing that they should.” “Thank you so very much.” And she vanished up the stairs. Perkins glared fixedly at the library door, his freckled features assuming a belligerent expression. Margaret returned immediately and came down the stairs quite breathless. “Shall I stay here and keep the rest away until he goes, you know?” he asked. She gave him a thankful glance, and he added: “There, don't you worry. No one shall disturb you.” He held open the door as he spoke and shut it carefully after her, so that no portion of a conversation clearly not for him should find its way to his ears. Ten minutes later when Geoff had taken his leave Margaret found Perkins still at his post, pacing the hall with dignified step. Something akin to intuition informed him it would be well not to allude to recent happenings, so he remarked: “I think dinner is waiting for us. Suppose we go see.”