“Nothing.  I rather expected he might have come, as before, to discuss the case with us, but he has made a point of keeping away.  I hear, however, from your brother that he seems far less objectionable this time.”

Somewhat to Gifford’s surprise, she gave a rather grudging assent.  “Yes, I suppose he is.  I happened to see him on his arrival, and he certainly was polite enough, but it is possible to be even objectionably polite.”

Gifford glanced at her curiously, wondering what had taken place to call forth the remark.  “I know that,” he said.  “I do hope the man has not annoyed you.  From what your brother told us—­”

“Oh, no,” she interrupted, “I can’t say he has annoyed me—­from his point of view.”  She laughed.  “The man tried to be particularly agreeable, I think.”

“And succeeded in being the reverse,” Gifford added.  “I can quite understand.  Still, it might be worse.”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed in a tone which did nothing to abate his curiosity.

The luncheon bell rang out and they turned.

“I haven’t thanked you for looking after our interests, Mr. Gifford,” the girl said.

“I have unfortunately been able to do nothing,” he replied deprecatingly.

“But you have tried,” she rejoined graciously, “and it is not your fault if you have not succeeded.  It is a comfort to think that we have a friend at hand ready to help us if need be, and I am most grateful.”

The unusual feeling in her tone thrilled him.

“I should love to do something worthy of your gratitude,” he responded, in a subdued tone.

“You take a lower view of your service than I do,” she rejoined as they reached the house, and no more could be said.

At luncheon the improvement which their host had mentioned in Henshaw’s attitude was strikingly apparent.  His dogmatic self-assertiveness which had before been found so irritating was laid aside; his manner was subdued, his tone was sympathetic as he apologized for all the annoyance to which his host and hostess were being put.  Gifford, watching him alertly, wondered at the change, and more particularly at its cause, which set him speculating.  What did it portend?  It seemed as though the complete alteration in the man’s attitude and manner might indicate that he had got the solution of the mystery, and no longer had that problem to worry him.  Certainly there was little to find fault with in him to-day.

One thing, however, Gifford did not like, and that was Henshaw’s rather obvious admiration for Edith Morriston.  When they took their places at table, she had motioned to Gifford to sit beside her, and from that position it gradually forced itself upon his notice that Henshaw scarcely took his eyes off his hostess, addressing most of his conversation, and he was a fluent talker, to her.  It was, of course, scarcely to be wondered at that this handsome, capable girl should call forth any man’s admiration.