"It's no use, dear," she said simply. "No use what?" he queried with ungrammatical directness. "No use your pretending to talk at random and to be eating a hearty breakfast, when your thoughts are just as much absorbed as mine are." "Hm!" he grunted evasively, but was glad enough to push aside the plateful of eggs and bacon which, indeed, he had no desire to eat. "You have," she continued gently, "read all the papers, just as I have, and you know as well as I do what to read between the lines when they talk of 'clues' and of 'certain sensational developments.'" "Of course I do," he retorted gruffly, "but it's all nonsense." "Of course it is. But worrying nevertheless." "I don't see how such rubbish can worry you." "Not," she said, "for myself. But for Luke. He must have got an inkling by now of what is going on." "Of course he has. And if he has a grain of sense he'll treat it with the contempt it deserves." "It's all very well, father. But just think for a moment. Place yourself in Luke's position. The very idea that you might be suspected must in itself be terrible." "Not when you are innocent," he rejoined with the absolute certitude of a man who has never been called upon to face any really serious problem in life. "I shouldn't care what the rabble said about me, if I had a clear conscience." Louisa was silent for a moment or two, then she said: "Luke is different somehow. He has been different lately." "He has a lot to put up with, with old Radclyffe going off his head in that ridiculous way." But Louisa did not reply to that suggestion. She knew well enough that it was neither Lord Radclyffe's unkindness, nor the arrogance of the new cousin that had changed and softened Luke's entire nature. The day that he had sat beside her on the stain at Lady Ducies' ball, the completeness of the change had been fully borne in on her. When Luke said to her: "I would give all I have in the world to lie on the ground before you and to kiss the soles of your feet," she knew that Love had wrought its usual exquisite miracle, the absorption of self by another, the utter sinking of the ego before the high altar of the loved one. She knew all that, but dear old Colonel Harris had forgotten--perhaps he had never known. That knowledge comes to so few nowadays. Life, psychology, and sexual problems have taken the place of the divine lesson which has glorified the world since the birth of Lilith. All that Louisa now remarked to her kind and sensible father was---- "You know, dear, suspicion has killed a man before now. It was but a very little while ago that a noble-hearted gentleman preferred death to such dishonour." "You've got your head," he retorted, "full of nonsense, Lou. Try and be a sensible woman now, and think of it all quietly. Is there anything you would like me to do, for instance?" "Yes, if you will." "What is it?" "Couldn't you see Uncle Ryder?" "At Scotland Yard, you mean?"