She made a mighty effort to show herself calm, collected, and indifferent, when she presently went down to the study. But she neither shook hands with the caller, nor asked him to sit; instead she marched across to the hearthrug and regarded him from a distance. "Yes, Mr. Burchill?" she said quietly. "You wish to see me?" She looked him over steadily as she spoke, and noted a certain air of calm self-assurance about him which struck her with a vague uneasiness. He was too easy, too quiet, too entirely businesslike to be free from danger. And the bow which he gave her was, to her thinking, the height of false artifice. "I wished to see you and to speak to you, with your permission," he answered. "I beg you to believe that what I have--what I desire to say is to be said by me with the deepest respect, the most sincere consideration. I have your permission to speak? Then I beg to ask you if--I speak with deep courtesy!--if the answer which you made to a certain question of mine some time ago is--was--is to be--final?" "So final that I am surprised that you should refer to the matter," replied Peggie. "I told you so at the time." "Circumstances have changed," he said. "I am at a parting of the ways in life's journey. I wish to know--definitely--which way I am to take. A ray of guiding light from you----" "There will be none!" said Peggie sharply. "Not a gleam. This is waste of time. If that is all you have to say----" The door of the study opened, and Selwood, who was still engaged about the house, came in. He paused on the threshold, staring from one to the other, and made as if to withdraw. But Peggie openly smiled on him. "Come in, Mr. Selwood," she said. "I was just going to ask Kitteridge to find you. I want to see both you and Mr. Tertius." Then she turned to Burchill, who stood, a well-posed figure in his fine raiment, still watching her, and made him a frigid bow. "There is no more to say on that point--at any time," she said quietly. "Good day. Mr. Selwood, will you ring the bell?" Burchill executed another profound and self-possessed bow. He presently followed the footman from the room, and Peggie, for the first time since Jacob Herapath's death, suddenly let her face relax and burst into a hearty laugh. CHAPTER XIX WEAVING THE NET