Maxwell Fair, an Englishman who has amassed a colossal fortune on ’Change, inherits from his ancestors a remarkable tendency to devote his life to some object, generally a worthy, if peculiar one, which is extravagantly chivalrous, even morbid. The story opens with Fair and Mrs. Fair standing over the body of a man who has just been shot in their house—a foreigner, who had claimed to be an old friend of Mrs. Fair. Fair sends her to her room, saying: “Leave everything to me.” He hides the body in a chest, and decides to close the house “for a trip on the Continent.” Fair tells the governess, Kate Mettleby, that he loves her, that there is no dishonor in his love, in spite of Mrs. Fair’s existence, and that, until an hour ago, he thought he could marry her—could “break the self-imposed conditions of his weird life-purpose.” They are interrupted before Kate, who really loves him, is made to understand. While the Fairs are entertaining a few old friends at dinner, Kate, not knowing that it contains Mrs. Fair’s blood-stained dress, is about to hide a parcel in the chest when she is startled by a sound. CHAPTER V (_Continued_) “Hss—hss,” once more came the noise, and this time she realized that it proceeded from the doorway. With a frightened look she saw a man peering and smiling at her between the portières. “Why, who are you?” she asked, involuntarily retreating toward the bell. “Sh-h. They are at dinner—a very good dinner, from the smell, too,” answered the stranger, entering the room with an air of such thorough good-nature and easy friendliness that Miss Mettleby gained courage. He was a little, wiry, dapper, insinuating fellow whose cockney smartness of attire and knowing, “between ourselves” manner suggested almost anything, from an upper groom or a veterinary’s assistant to a rising young follower of the turf or a successful burglar with aristocratic connections. “I will ring,” said Miss Mettleby, puzzled whether to scream or laugh. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that, you know,” suggested the visitor pleasantly, more like one throwing out a friendly suggestion than a burglar intimidating a very frightened young governess. “You see, miss, I have business with Mr. Fair—rather nasty business, too, and I never broach a disagreeable subject until after dinner, do you?” “But what do you mean by prowling about people’s houses?” asked Kate, with a dignity born of growing assurance that the man did not contemplate her immediate murder. “Oh, I say, let up, miss, you know,” deprecated the invader ruefully. “You see, when you have passed a few hours back of pianos and under beds and in wardrobes you grow attached to a house, don’t you, miss? I’m that attached to this house that you’d be surprised if I was to tell you how much. You’ll be the governess now, I dare say?”