"I did," Macheson answered. "Perhaps my call is inopportune. I have come from London practically for no other reason than to ask you a single question." Hurd laughed shortly. "You had better ask it then," he said. "I thought that you might have other business in the neighbourhood. Preaching off, eh?" "My question is simply this," Macheson said calmly. "Have you, or had you, ever a sister?" A dull red flush streamed into the young man's face. He removed his pipe from his mouth and stared at Macheson. His silence for several moments seemed to arise from the fact that surprise had robbed him of the powers of speech. "Who put you up to asking that?" he demanded sharply. Macheson raised his eyebrows slightly. "My question is a simple one," he said. "If you do not choose to answer it, it is easy for me to procure the information from elsewhere. The first villager I met would tell me. I preferred to come to you." "I have no sister," Hurd said slowly. "I never had. Now you must tell me why you have come here to ask me this." "I am told," Macheson said, "that years ago a girl in Paris represented herself as being your father's daughter. She is being inquired for in a somewhat mysterious way." "And what business is it of yours?" Hurd demanded curtly. "None--apparently," Macheson answered. "I am obliged to you for your information. I will not detain you any longer." But Stephen Hurd barred the way. Looking into his face, Macheson saw already the signs of a change there. His eyes were a little wild, and though it was early in the morning he smelt of spirits. "No! you don't," he declared truculently. "You're not going till you tell me what you mean by that question." "I am afraid," Macheson answered, "that I have nothing more to tell you." "You will tell me who this mysterious person is," Hurd declared. Macheson shook his head. "No!" he said. "I think that you had better let me pass." "Not yet," Hurd answered. "Look here! You've been in communication with the man who came here and murdered my father. You know where he is." "Scarcely that, was it?" Macheson answered. "There was a struggle, but your father's death was partly owing to other causes. However, I did not come here to discuss that with you. I came to ask you a question, which you have answered. If you will permit me to pass I shall be obliged." Hurd hesitated for a moment. "Look here," he said, with an assumption of good nature, "there's no reason why you and I should quarrel. I want to know who put you up to asking me that question. It isn't that I want to do him any harm. I'll guarantee his safety, if you like, so far as I am concerned. Only I'm anxious to meet him." Macheson shook his head. "I do not know where he is myself," he answered. "In any case, I could not give you any information." Stephen Hurd stood squarely in front of the door. "You'll have to," he said doggedly. "That's all there is about it." Macheson took a step forward.