“He is better out of the way just for the present. When does he take up his new appointment?” “I am not sure that any definite time has been fixed,” I answered. “In about a month I should think.” “I heard about it yesterday,” he remarked. “Your stay here has not been a long one, has it?” “Would to God that we had never come at all!” I exclaimed, fervently. “It has been the most miserable time in my life.” “I don’t know that I can echo that wish,” he said, with a faint smile. “Yet so far as you are concerned, from your point of view, I suppose your coming here must have seemed very unfortunate. It is a pity.” “Mr. Deville,” I said, drawing close to his side, “I am going to ask you a question.” He looked down at me shaking his head. “I should rather you asked me no question at all,” he answered, promptly. “Can’t we talk of other things?” “No, we cannot! Listen!” I laid my hand upon his arm, and forced him to turn towards me. “You were speaking of going to see my father this afternoon,” I said. “Can I give him any message for you?” “Tell him that I am sorry to hear of his illness, but that I am glad that he is taking care of himself,” he answered, looking down at me. “Tell him that the weather is bad, and that he will do well to take care of himself. He is better in his room just at present.” We were inside the gates of the Yellow House, and I had not time to ask him the meaning of this unusual solicitude for my father’s health. I was still puzzling over it when we were shown into the drawing room. Then for a moment I forgot it, and everything else altogether. Adelaide Fortress had a visitor sitting opposite to her and talking earnestly. The conversation ceased suddenly, and she looked up as we entered. There was no mistaking the long, sallow face and anxious eyes. She looked at me with indifference, but at the sight of my companion she jumped up and a little cry broke from her lips. Her eyes seemed to be devouring him. “At last!” she cried. “At last!” CHAPTER XV THE LIKENESS OF PHILIP MALTABAR We stood looking at them in wonder. Her face had seemed suddenly to light up in some mysterious way, so that for the moment one quite forgot that she was plain at all. “It is really you!” she murmured. “How wonderful!” She held out both her hands. Bruce Deville took them a little awkwardly. It was easy to see that her joy at this meeting was not altogether reciprocated. But she seemed utterly unconscious of that. There was quite a becoming pink flush on her sallow cheeks, and her dark eyes were wonderfully soft. Her lips were parted with a smile of welcome, and showed all her teeth--she had gleaming white teeth, beautifully shaped and regular. “To think that we should meet again like this,” she continued, parting with his great brown hand with some evident reluctance. “We were bound to meet again some day,” he answered, deprecatingly. “After all, there is nothing very extraordinary about it. The world is a small place.”