"Oh, yes, indeed!" said Jno. Peters. "I have only met her once, when she came into our office to see Mr. Samuel, but her personality and appearance stamped themselves so forcibly on my mind, that I know I am not mistaken. I am sure it is my duty to tell you exactly what happened when I was left alone with her in the office. We had hardly exchanged a dozen words, Mr. Bennett, when--" here Jno. Peters, modest to the core, turned vividly pink, "when she told me--she told me that I was the only man she loved!" Mr. Bennett uttered a loud cry. "Sweet spirits of nitre!" Mr. Peters could make nothing of this exclamation, and he was deterred from seeking light, by the sudden action of his host, who, bounding from his seat, with a vivacity of which one could not have believed him capable, charged to the French window and emitted a bellow. "Wilhelmina!" Billie looked up from her sketching-book with a start. It seemed to her that there was a note of anguish, of panic, in that voice. What her father could have found in the drawing-room to be frightened at, she did not know; but she dropped her block and hurried to his assistance. "What it is, father?" Mr. Bennett had retired within the room when she arrived; and, going in after him, she perceived at once what had caused his alarm. There before her, looking more sinister than ever, stood the lunatic Peters; and there was an ominous bulge in his right coat-pocket which betrayed the presence of the revolver. What Jno. Peters was, as a matter of fact, carrying in his right coat-pocket was a bag of mixed chocolates which he had purchased in Windlehurst. But Billie's eyes, though bright, had no X-ray quality. Her simple creed was that, if Jno. Peters bulged at any point, that bulge must be caused by a pistol. She screamed, and backed against the wall. Her whole acquaintance with Jno. Peters had been on constant backing against walls. "Don't shoot!" she cried, as Mr. Peters absent-mindedly dipped his hand into the pocket of his coat. "Oh, please don't shoot!" "What the deuce do you mean?" said Mr. Bennett, irritably. He hated to have people gibbering around him in the morning. "Wilhelmina, this man says that you told him you loved him." "Yes, I did, and I do. Really, really, Mr. Peters, I do!" "Suffering cats!" Mr. Bennett clutched at the back of a chair. "But you've only met him once!" he added almost pleadingly. "You don't understand, father dear," said Billie desperately. "I'll explain the whole thing later, when...." "Father!" ejaculated Jno. Peters feebly. "Did you say 'father'?" "Of course I said 'father'!" "This is my daughter, Mr. Peters." "My daughter! I mean, your daughter! Are--are you sure?" "Of course I'm sure. Do you think I don't know my own daughter?" "But she called me 'Mr. Peters'!" "Well, it's your name, isn't it?" "But, if she--if this young lady is your daughter, how did she know my name?" The point seemed to strike Mr. Bennett. He turned to Billie.