“I am afraid that you will think it very selfish,” I said, “but my father would rather not see you at all. He is in very delicate health, and this affair has already been a terrible shock to him. He does not want to have anything more to do with it directly or indirectly. He wants to forget it if he can. He desires me to offer you his most sincere sympathy. But you must really excuse him.” She rose slowly to her feet; her manner was obviously ungracious. “Oh, very well!” she said. “Of course if he has made up his mind not to see me, I cannot insist. At the same time, I think it very strange. Good afternoon.” I rang the bell, and walked with her to the door. “Is there anything else which I can do for you?” I asked. “No, thank you. I think I shall telegraph to London for a detective. I shall see what they say at the police station. Good afternoon.” She did not offer to shake hands, nor did I. I think of all the women I had ever met, I detested her the most. I watched her walk down the drive with short, mincing steps and get into a fly. Then I went to the door of my father’s room and knocked. CHAPTER XIII FOR VENGEANCE I knocked at the door twice before there was any answer. Then I heard my father’s voice from the other end of the room. “Is that you, Kate?” “Yes,” I answered. “Can I come in?” The door was not immediately unlocked. “Has she gone?” he asked. “Yes,” I answered. He opened it then, and I was frightened to see how ill he looked. He had evidently been lying down, for the cushions on his sofa were disarranged. “She has gone away, then,” he repeated, anxiously. I nodded. “Yes.” “Was she annoyed because I did not see her?” “She was disappointed,” I admitted. “She was very ungracious and very disagreeable; a most objectionable person altogether. I don’t know how I managed to be civil with her.” “You explained that I was not well--that I was not fit to see any one?” “I did my best. She was very unreasonable, and she evidently expected that you would have made an effort to see her. She went away grumbling.” He sat down upon the sofa, and I leaned against the table. “Has she gone back to London?” he asked. “I do not know, I don’t think so. She said something about going back to the police station and wiring to London for a detective.” “Ah!” He had closed his eyes. I heard him draw in a long, sharp breath. “She is a very determined young woman,” I continued. “Perhaps I ought not to say so, but she seemed to feel more angry than broken-hearted. She is vindictive, I am sure. She will do her best to find the man who killed her brother, and if she finds him she will have no mercy.” My father rose up and walked to his writing table. His back was turned to me as he commenced to sort out some papers. “Perhaps,” he said, “that is natural. It is very hard indeed to remember that vengeance belongs to God, and not to man. It is very hard indeed. Leave me now, Kate, and see that I am not disturbed for an hour.”