"Mr. Vance!" She rose impulsively, and looked highly indignant. "Because," I continued remorselessly, and repeating Miss Destiny's exact words, "Joseph has Anne Caldershaw's private papers." Miss Monk turned white, gasped, and sank back nervously into her seat. "My aunt is mad to say such a thing," she stammered. "Possibly," said I dryly. "I have no very great idea of Miss Destiny's sanity myself. But, it may be that you can explain the madness." Gertrude looked round the room, as if in search of help, and placed both hands on her breast as though to still the beating of her heart. "I would explain--to a friend," she muttered, and her face was whiter than the statue of Parian marble on the bracket by the fireplace. "I am a friend, Miss Monk." "A true friend?" "Test me and find me so." I bent over her. "Can you not understand?" She put out her hand and pushed me back slightly. "My friend--not yet." I retreated. "Friend--so cold a word." "It is sufficient for the present," and then I saw that her whiteness was drowned in a rising tide of crimson. I would have spoken, for a sudden leap of my heart told me that her feelings were not so indifferent as I had imagined them to be. But again she put over her hand. "No, say nothing; let us remain friends until----" "Until when?" I asked eagerly. Pressing her hands between her knees she stared into the fire, then spoke in a low steady voice. "I never had a friend, either man or woman, and I have always wanted one. When you came I thought--it was foolish on my part perhaps--but I thought that you might help me." "I wish to help you in every way." She went on without heeding my impetuous speech. "I doubted: one always doubts a man. I asked Mrs. Gilfin about you. What she told me, confirmed the impression I had gained from your looks. I felt certain from many times we have met that Mrs. Gilfin spoke truly. You are a man I can trust." "Yes! yes! But am I a man you can love?" "Let it remain as trust for the time being. I still had doubts, and to-day I told you to go away." "Why?" "Because you said nothing, you did nothing. You were neither hot nor--ah well, remember what I said to-day when we met. I could not make a friend of anyone who was indifferent. But now, as I see you mean to be my friend, I may trust you. I need sympathy: I need help: I need"--she started to her feet and held up an anxious finger. "Hark! hark! Not a word to him." To him? I wondered what she meant, until the door opened and a man walked delicately into the room. "Here I am, daughterling," said the man gaily. CHAPTER X. A SURPRISE