There was something in the unrestrained fondness of her look, now, that made him jump to a place beside her. What might have followed was interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice in the anteroom, demanding Mr. Granthope. Clytie sprang up, her cheeks burning. Granthope turned coolly to the door, with his eyebrows lifted. Mr. Payson appeared at the entrance. He was scowling under his bushy eyebrows, the muscles of his face were twitching. A cane was firmly clenched in his right hand. He bent a harsh look at his daughter. "What does this mean, Clytie?" he demanded. She had recovered on the instant and faced him splendidly, in neither defiance nor supplication. "It means," she said in her low, steady voice, "that as you won’t permit me to receive Mr. Granthope in your house, I must see him in his." "Leave this room instantly!" he thundered bombastically. "Please don’t make a scene, father. I’m quite old enough to take care of myself, and to judge for myself. You needn’t humiliate me." "Humiliate you! If you’re not humiliated at being found here with a cheap impostor, I don’t think I can shame you! This man is a rank scoundrel and a cheat—I won’t have you compromise yourself with such a mountebank!" Granthope stood watching her unruffled, fearless pose, confident in her power to control the situation. "Mr. Granthope is my friend, father. Don’t say anything that you may regret. I don’t intend to leave you alone with him till you are master of yourself, and can say what you have come to say without anger. He has respected your request not to call on me at the house, and I came here of my own accord, without his invitation. And he has always treated me as a gentleman should." "A gentleman!" Mr. Payson sneered. "I know what he is—he’s a damned trickster. I’ve always suspected it, but since I kicked him out of my house I’ve had proof of it. I know his record"—he turned to Granthope—"from persons who know you well, sir!" "I suppose you mean Vixley or Madam Spoll." "You can’t deny that they know you pretty well?" "Your daughter knows more, I think. I have just taken the liberty of informing her as to just how much of a scoundrel I am." "And you have the impertinence to consider yourself her social equal!" "I think Miss Payson’s position is sufficiently assured for her to be in no danger." "Well, yours certainly is not. I’ve heard of your lady-killing. I suppose you want to add my daughter’s scalp to your belt. Haven’t you women enough running after you yet? So you wheedled her with a mock-confession—tried the cry-baby on her. Well, it won’t work with me. I’ll tell her all about you, don’t be afraid!" Clytie went to him and laid a hand gently upon his arm. "Father, we’ll go, now, please. I can’t bear this. You need only to look about you to see that, whatever Mr. Granthope has been, he is no longer a palmist. You see this room is already dismantled—if you’ll only listen, I’ll explain everything."