“You deserted me at supper,” in quick defence. “We only stayed a little longer after that; Marjorie developed one of her headaches--my goodness”--catching sight of a limousine turning into the driveway leading to their porte-cochère. “Who’s calling here at this hour?” “I believe it’s the Calhoun-Coopers,” Barnard peered cautiously out of the window. “It looks like their car. The theft of their pearls has murdered sleep.” He stepped back and scanned Janet mockingly. “Will you face the music?” She put out her hand as if to ward off a blow, and rising hurriedly, darted out into the hall and stopped the footman on his way to the front door. “Not at home, Henderson,” she directed. “And Mrs. Fordyce is not feeling well enough to see anyone.” “Very good, Miss Janet.” Janet turned with lagging footsteps back to the drawing-room, one hand pressed to her side to still the pounding of her heart. Barnard, a look of deep concern on his handsome face, met her at the threshold. “My precious darling!” he murmured, but with trembling hands she pushed him violently from her as he attempted to kiss her. “No, no!” she implored, and staggered over to the grand piano. “How long must I serve!” demanded Barnard, his voice shaking with emotion as he followed her. “Janet, will you never listen to the dictates of your heart?” “If I did----!” Janet’s agonized gaze left his face and traveled downward to the keyboard of the piano. Suppose she told him too much? She must keep a guard upon her tongue-- “Play for me, Chichester,” she pleaded. Barnard, no mean musician, struck several chords and stopped. “I am afraid the piano wants tuning.” “Oh, the man must have left without finishing his work,” she exclaimed. “Probably went to get his lunch; here are his tuning-fork and kit.” Barnard picked up the instruments. “Only two or three notes are below pitch, perhaps I can put them right.” “Do try,” she begged, and Barnard obediently struck the tuning-fork. Janet’s belief that her “not at home” message would send Mrs. J. Calhoun-Cooper away, was not well founded. Henderson’s information caused that determined matron to hesitate for a second only, then she inquired for Mr. Calderon Fordyce. “Ask him if he will see me for a few moments on a matter of importance,” she added, detecting the footman’s embarrassment. “Wouldn’t Miss Langdon do?” he ventured. “Certainly not,” and somewhat overawed by her air of authority, he showed her and Pauline into the reception-room and went to tell his master of their presence. “Asked for me personally, Henderson?” questioned Calderon Fordyce, examining the visiting-cards attentively. “Yes, sir; Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper declared Miss Langdon would not do; that she had to see you on a matter of importance, sir.” “Has Mr. Duncan returned?” “No, sir.” Fordyce cast a regretful look at the letter he was engaged in writing when interrupted, and rose. “Did you show the ladies into the drawing-room?”