“The first thing he will suggest,” and Doris’s voice waxed unconsciously bitter. “He knows that dad will be busy with the mails for an hour after tea.” “Good!” “I think it bad, most disagreeable.” “You won’t find the position so awkward if you are playing a part. And that is what I want—a bit of clever acting. Lean on those railings, and make Siddle believe that your heart is on Mr. Grant’s lawn. You know the kind of thing I mean. Dreamy eyes, listless manner, inattention, with smiling apologies. You will annoy Siddle, and a cautious man in a temper becomes less cautious. Force him to avow his real thoughts. You will learn something, trust me.” “About what?” There were no tears in Doris’s eyes. They were wide open in wonderment. “About his attitude to this tragedy. Do this, and you will be giving Mr. Grant the greatest possible help. He needs it. Next Wednesday, at the adjourned inquest, he will be put on the rack. Ingerman will fee counsel to be vindictive, merciless. Such men are to be hired. Their reputation is built up on the slaughter of reputations. I want to understand Siddle before Wednesday. By the way, what’s his other name?” “Theodore.” “Theodore Siddle. Unusual. Well, your half hour is nearly up. Will you do what I ask?” “I’ll try. May I put one question?” “Yes.” “You said you had something altogether different in view before we met. What was it?” “I’ll tell you—let me see—I’ll tell you on Thursday.” “Why not now?” “Because it is the hardest thing in the world for a woman to be single-minded, in the limited sense of concentration, I mean. Focus your wits on Siddle to-day. I don’t suggest any plan. I leave that to your own intelligence. Vex him, and let him talk.” “Vex him!” “Yes. What man won’t get mad if he notices that his best girl is thinking about a rival.” This time Doris did not blush. She was troubled and serious, very serious. “I’ll do what I can,” she promised. “When shall I see you again?” “Soon. There’s no hurry. All this is preparatory for Wednesday.” “Am I to tell my father nothing?” “Please yourself. Not at present. I recommend you.” The car had stopped. It sped on when Doris alighted. She would be home with her cakes at three o’clock, and Mr. Martin would never have noticed her absence. “A fine bit of work, if I may say so,” exclaimed Fowler appreciatively. “But I am jiggered if I can imagine what you’re driving at.” Winter was cutting the end off a big cigar. He finished the operation to his liking before answering earnestly: