“Remarkable!” said Lambaire. “Astoundin’!” said Whitey, no less surprised. She rose from her chair. “Since the matter has been settled--so far as I have anything to do with it,” she said, “you will excuse my presence.” She left the room, and Amber, sitting in the little study, heard the swish of her skirts and rose to meet her. There was a touch of pink in her cheeks, but she was very grave and self-possessed, as she favoured him with the slightest of bows and motioned him to a seat. “Good of you to see me, Miss Sutton,” said Amber. She noted, with a little pang, that he was quite at ease. There could be little hope for a man who was so lost to shame that he gloried in his misspent career rather than showed some indication of embarrassment in the presence of a woman who knew him for what he was. “I felt I owed you this interview at least,” she replied steadily. “I wish----” She stopped. “Yes?” Amber perked his head on one side inquiringly. “You were going to say that you wished----?” “It does not matter,” she said. She felt herself blushing. “You wish you could do something for me,” he said with a half-smile, “but, my lady, half the good people in the world are trying to do something for me. I am hopeless, I am incorrigible; regard me as that.” Nevertheless, lightly as he discussed the question of his regeneration, he eyed her keenly to see how she would take the rejection of help. To his relief, and somewhat to his annoyance also, be it admitted, he observed she accepted his valuation of himself very readily. “I have come to see you to-day,” he went on, “in relation to a matter which is of supreme importance to you. Do you mind answering a few questions I put to you?” “I have no objection,” she said. “Your father was an explorer, was he not?” “Yes.” “He knew Central Africa very well?” “Yes--very well.” “He discovered a mine--a diamond mine, or something of the sort?” She shook her head with a smile. “That has yet to be proved,” she said. “He had heard, from the natives, of a wonderful river--the River of Stars they called it, because in its bed were stones, many of which had been polished by the action of the water until they glittered,--they were undoubtedly diamonds, for my father purchased a number from the people of the country.” Amber nodded. “And then I suppose he came home and got into touch with Lambaire?” “That is so,” she said, wondering at the course the interview was taking. Amber nodded thoughtfully. “The rest of the story I know,” he said. “I was at pains to look up the circumstances attending your father’s death. You received from the Commissioner of the district a chart?” She hesitated. “I did--yes.” He smiled. “I have no designs upon the mine, but I am anxious to see the chart--and before you refuse me, Miss Sutton, let me tell you that I am not prompted by idle curiosity.” “I believe that, Mr. Amber,” she said; “if you wait, I will get it for you.”