The uncertainty was terrible to the girl, and she forced her thoughts into the one channel in which there was a ray of comfort. "At least," she murmured, "he has ceased to be a menace to Charlie." "Mr. Hiram Carmody, miss." The old manservant who had been with the Mantons always, stood framed in the inverted V of the parted portieres. Ethel started. Why had he called? During the lifetime of her father the elder Carmody had been a frequent visitor in the Manton home. Was it about Bill? Was he sick? Had there been an accident, and was he hurt--possibly dead? There was an icy grip at her heart, though her voice was quite firm as she replied: "I will see Mr. Carmody at once, Craddon." As the man silently withdrew from the doorway a new thought came to her. Could it be that Bill was still in New York? That his going away had been an empty threat? And was he now trying to bring about a reconciliation through the medium of his father? How she could despise him for that! Her lips thinned, and there was a hint of formality in her greeting as she offered her hand to the tall, gray-haired man who advanced toward her. "Well, well! Miss Ethel," he began, "all alone with a book and a cozy fire. That is what I call solid comfort." He crossed the room and extended his hands to the blaze. "It is a long time since you have called, Mr. Carmody." "Yes. We old fellows rarely drift outside the groove of our fixed orbit. One by one we drop out, and as each one passes beyond it shortens the orbit of the others. The circle is always contracting--never expanding. The last one of us will be found in his dotage never venturing beyond the circle of his own fireside until he, too, shall answer the call." The voice held a note of sadness which touched the girl deeply, and she suddenly noted that the fine patrician face had aged. "You should not speak of being old," she said gently. "Why, you are called the Wizard of Wall Street." "A man is only as old as he feels. Until recently I have considered myself a young man. But of late I feel that I am losing my grip." "Isn't that a dangerous admission? If it should become known on the Street----" "Ha!"--the heavy gray eyebrows met with a ferocity which belied the smile that curved the thin lips--"if it were but whispered upon the Street the wolves would be at my throat before morning. But they would have a fight on their hands! However, all that is beside the purpose. I suppose you are wondering why I called?" The girl was momentarily at a loss for a reply. "Why, I--You know you are always welcome here." "Yes, yes. But, as you must have surmised, I called with a definite object in view. A matter that concerns you and--er, my son." The girl turned a shade paler. "I do not understand," she replied.