“Do you mean that?” she asked.

“I mean it,” he answered.

“But why?  I have seen so little of you.  I had no idea that you knew even what had become of me since I had left my father.”

“I am going to explain everything by and by,” he said, “but first of all I want to ask you one question.  Do you know anything about this illness of your father’s?  Do you believe that it is a genuine thing, or that he has some motive of his own for keeping to his room?”

A faint smile parted Stella’s lips.

“I begin to understand,” she murmured.  “I must admit that I was puzzled at your sudden interest in me.”

“Does it need any particular reason?” he asked, looking at her admiringly.

Stella, who was conscious of a new hat and a very becoming gown, laughed softly.

“Well, perhaps it shouldn’t,” she said, “but, you see, you have given yourself away.  But I may as well warn you at once that I know nothing about my father.  He has even forbidden me the house, and I have not seen him for weeks,”

He nodded.

“So I understood,” he said.  “May I be quite frank?”

“Of course,” she answered.  “If you really have anything to say to me, I should prefer it.”

“Then after the oysters I will undertake to be,” he declared, smiling.

He turned away to send a boy out for some flowers and order some wine, and afterwards they proceeded with their lunch, talking of the slight things of the moment.  Littleson, in that little group of millionaires, represented youth, and to a certain extent fashion.  He came from one of the better-known families in New York.  He had rooms and connections in London and Paris.  He was fairly good looking, and always irreproachably dressed.  Stella looked at him more than once approvingly.  He was certainly a desirable companion.  For the rest, she had little vanity, and she knew well enough that he had some purpose of his own in seeking her out.  She had only known of him as one of her father’s allies, and she was puzzled to know the meaning of that first question of his.

He seemed in no hurry, however, to satisfy her curiosity.  He had ordered a wonderful lunch, and not until they had reached its final stage did he refer again to anything approaching serious conversation.  Then he leaned a little across the table towards her, and she felt the change in his expression and tone, as he began to speak in lowered voice.

“Miss Duge,” he said, “I dare say you were surprised at my question to you.  Let me explain.  Your father and several others of us have been allies for some time in some very important matters connected with finance.  For the last few months, however, we have all felt a sort of vague uneasiness one with the other.  Apparently we were all still pulling the same way, yet I think that each one of us had the feeling that there was something wrong.  We all began to distrust one another.  To come to an end quickly, I hope I do not offend you, Miss Duge, when I say that it is my belief that your father has been and is trying to deceive us for his own benefit.”