“Do not fear me, Adrian, though for a moment I forgot myself. For you, personally--personally--I have only great good will. But--will you answer my questions, believing that it a painful necessity which compels them?” “Certainly.” “One word more. Beyond the fact, which you confided to Margot, that you were a runaway, I know no details of your past life. I have wished not to know and have refrained from any inquiries. I must now break that silence. What--is your father’s name?” As he spoke the man’s hands gripped the arms of his chair more tightly, like one prepared for an unpleasant answer. “Malachi Wadislaw.” The questioner waited a moment, during which he seemed to be thinking profoundly. Then he rallied his own judgment. It was an uncommon name, but there might be two men bearing it. That was not impossible. “Where does he live?” “Number --, Madison Avenue, New York.” A longer silence than before, broken by a long drawn “A-ah!” There might, indeed, be two men of one name, but not two residing at that once familiar locality. “Adrian, when you asked my niece that question about her father, did you--had you--tell me what was in your mind.” The lad’s face showed nothing but frank astonishment. “Why, nothing, sir, beyond an idle curiosity. And I’m no end sorry for my thoughtlessness. I’ve seen how tenderly you both watch her mother’s grave, and I wondered where her father’s was. That was all. I had no business to have done it--” “It was natural. It was nothing wrong, in itself. But--unfortunately, it suggested to Margot what I have studiously kept from her. For reasons which I think best to keep to myself, it is impossible to run the risk of other questions which may arouse other speculations in her mind. I have been truly glad that she could for a time, at least, have the companionship of one nearer her own age than Angelique or myself, but now--” [Illustration: ADRIAN TOOK THE ACCOUNT BOOK] He paused significantly, and Adrian hastened to complete the unfinished sentence. “Now it is time for her to return to her ordinary way of life. I understand you, of course. And I am going away at once. Indeed, I did start, not meaning to come back, but--I will--how can I do so sir? If I could swim--” Mr. Dutton’s drawn face softened into something like a smile; and again, most gently, he motioned the excited boy to resume his seat. As he did so, he opened a drawer of the table and produced a purse that seemed to be well filled. “Wait. There is no such haste, nor are you in such dire need as you seem to think. You have worked well and faithfully, and relieved me of much hard labor that I have not, somehow, felt just equal to. I have kept an account for you, and, if you will be good enough to see if it is right, I will hand you the amount due you.” He pushed a paper toward Adrian, who would not, at first, touch it.