“Oh, my dear!” Ariel said, with a gesture of deprecation.

“No,” Miss Pike went on, all in one breath, “but I’m afraid you will think it, because papa knows and he wants to see you.”

“What is it that he knows?”

“That you were walking with Joseph Louden!” (This was as if she had said, “That you poisoned your mother.”) “I didn’t tell him, but when we saw you with him I was troubled, and asked Eugene what I’d better do, because Eugene always knows what is best.” (Mr. Bantry’s expression, despite this tribute, was not happy.) “And he advised me to tell mamma about it and leave it in her hands.  But she always tells papa everything—­”

“Certainly; that is understood,” said Ariel, slowly, turning to smile at Eugene.

“And she told him this right away,” Mamie finished.

“Why shouldn’t she, if it is of the slightest interest to him?”

The daughter of the house exhibited signs of consternation.  “He wants to see you,” she repeated, falteringly.  “He’s in the library.”

Having thus discharged her errand, she hastened to the front-door, which had been left open, and out to the steps, evidently with the intention of removing herself as soon and as far as possible from the vicinity of the library.

Eugene, visibly perturbed, followed her to the doorway of the room, and paused.

“Do you know the way?” he inquired, with a note of solemnity.

“Where?” Ariel had not risen.

“To the library.”

“Of course,” she said, beaming upon him.  “I was about to ask you if you wouldn’t speak to the Judge for me.  This is such a comfortable old friend, this chair.”

“Speak to him for you?” repeated the non-plussed Eugene.

She nodded cheerfully.  “If I may trouble you.  Tell him, certainly, I shall be glad to see him.”

He threw a piteous glance after Mamie, who was now, as he saw, through the open door, out upon the lawn and beyond easy hailing distance.  When he turned again to look at Ariel he discovered that she had shifted the position of her chair slightly, and was gazing out of the window with every appearance of cheerful meditation.  She assumed so unmistakably that he had of course gone on her mission that, dismayed and his soul quaking, he could find neither an alternative nor words to explain to this dazzling lady that not he nor any other could bear such a message to Martin Pike.

Eugene went.  There was nothing else to do; and he wished with every step that the distance to the portals of the library might have been greater.

In whatever guise he delivered the summons, it was perfectly efficacious.  A door slammed, a heavy and rapid tread was heard in the hall, and Ariel, without otherwise moving, turned her head and offered a brilliant smile of greeting.

“It was good of you,” she said, as the doorway filled with red, imperial wrath, “to wish to have a little chat with me.  I’m anxious, of course, to go over my affairs with you, and last night, after my journey, I was too tired.  But now we might begin; not in detail, of course, just yet.  That will do for later, when I’ve learned more about business.”