When the door closed, Clarice sank back in her seat, overwhelmed with emotion. She had small sympathy for the doctor, since he had merely cried like a child for the moon, which he knew was entirely beyond his reach. But his last words impressed her with a sense of danger, and she wondered what he meant by this sudden obedience. Had he defied her, and remained to argue, she would have felt safer. Dr. Jerce--as she knew--was too strong a man to give in without a struggle, and that he should do so in this instance was ominous. In the words of the French proverb, he had but recoiled to spring the higher; yet Clarice could not see how he could harm her, or Anthony in any way. She was now her own mistress, free from supervision of any kind; Horran's death was no mystery, and although the murderer was still at large, he would certainly be caught sooner or later; Ferdy--here Clarice rose again, and her face grew white. What if Jerce could harm her by harming Ferdy? Jerce knew all about the boy and his fast life, and Jerce, if put to it, would not hesitate to sacrifice Ferdy, or anyone else, to achieve his ends. But the question was--what did Jerce know about Ferdy? While Clarice asked herself this, Ferdy himself entered, looking very sulky. "I do call it a shame, Clarry," he said, flinging himself into a chair, and thrusting his hands into his pockets. "Why should Uncle Henry have treated me in this beastly way?" "I think Uncle Henry has acted very wisely," said Clarice, harshly. The tone of her voice made Ferdy look up from his gloomy contemplation of the carpet, and he was struck by the whiteness of her face. "What's the matter with you?" he inquired, crossly. "I should think that you ought to be satisfied, seeing that everything has come your way, Clarry." "Do you think that it is a pleasure for me to take your burdens upon my shoulders?" asked Clarice, fiercely. "I would much rather that Uncle Henry had named Dr. Jerce as your guardian, seeing that Dr. Jerce knows so much about you." Ferdy started to his feet, changing colour like a chameleon. "What has Jerce been saying about me?" he demanded, with a sick look. "Nothing. He did not even mention your name." "Then what are you jawing about?" snapped Ferdy, sitting down again. Clarice placed herself before him, and tried to make him meet her eyes. But he would not, and kept them on the carpet, shuffling his feet uneasily meanwhile. "Dr. Jerce asked me to marry him," she said, in a clear voice. "I refused him. He has accepted my refusal so calmly that I am certain he intends mischief." "What rot," said Ferdy, uneasily; "as though a great man like Jerce would bother his head over you." "Oh," said Clarice, with a chill smile. "Perhaps it is King Cophetua and the Beggar-maid." "Bosh!"