"Harold," she murmured, drowsily, "my darling----" "I win the gloves, Miss Scarse," said a quiet, calm voice. The man stepped back as she sprang to her feet. "Mr. van Zwieten!" she cried, with a sense of suffocation. "You!" "I," answered Van Zwieten, removing the lampshade that he might see her more clearly. Then she realized that she must have been sleeping a long time, for the lamp had not been lit when she sat down. "You coward!" she panted, with flashing eyes--"you contemptible coward!" Cool as he was, Van Zwieten winced at the hatred in her voice. But the more she loathed him the more determined he was to make her his wife. He recovered his calmness with a laugh, and stood by the table masterful and handsome in his smart town dress. No dandy could have been better turned out than the big Dutchman. "Ach! I have touched the proud lips of little red Schefen," said he, quoting from Heine. "Come, Miss Scarse, when am I to have my gloves?" "If I were a man I would kill you!" "In that case--in any case--I am glad you are a woman. Why are you angry? I am only anticipating my right." "Oh!" cried Brenda, clenching her hands, "will no one deliver me from this man?" "No one," said Van Zwieten, slowly and determinedly. "You are mine--you always were. That kiss makes you doubly so." Brenda, seeing it was useless to speak, cast on him one look of scorn and stepped toward the door. Before she reached it he spoke again. What he said made her pause. "Wait and listen to me, Miss Scarse--for your father's sake. Ah! you are wise. Come, here is a chair. Sit down; we have much to talk about." "I prefer to stand. Tell me, what do you mean?" she burst out. "What I say. Listen to me, for your father's sake. Or, if you care so little for him that you can get him into trouble without seeking to avert it, why the door is open." In answer to this speech Brenda sat down and looked steadily at the man. He met her gaze frankly, and throughout conducted the interview with his usual politeness. "I know you do not love me," said he, in his deep voice; "but I love you, and I am content to win your affection after marriage." "I will never marry you. Take that answer once and for all." "In that case you leave me free to deal with your father." "I don't understand you." "Then I explain--not everything, for I never trust women, not even you. But I know the truth about this murder--so does your father." Brenda preserved her coolness. "Do you accuse him of the crime?" "Perhaps," replied Van Zwieten, with a singular smile, "should you not agree to give up Captain Burton and marry me. I know who killed Malet." "So do I," said Brenda, quietly. "It was the man you saw at the station on the night of the murder." Van Zwieten smothered an ejaculation of surprise. "What do you know of him?" "I know that he killed Mr. Malet--that my father shielded him, and sent him away. You dare not accuse my father of the murder."