“He knows where Beatrice is,” she remarked thoughtfully, “and I can’t get him to tell me.  There is nothing beyond —­ absolutely nothing.” . . .

When Tavernake was announced, Elizabeth was still smoking, sitting in an easy-chair and looking into the fire.  Something in her attitude, the droop of her head as it rested upon her fingers, reminded him suddenly of Beatrice.  He showed no other emotion than a sudden pause in his walk across the room.  Even that, however, in a person whose machinelike attitude towards her provoked her resentment, was noticeable.

“Good morning, my friend!” she said pleasantly.  “You have brought me the fresh list?”

“Unfortunately, no, madam,” Tavernake answered.  “I have called simply to announce that I am not able to be of any further assistance to you in the matter.”

She looked at him for a moment without remark.

“Are you serious, Mr. Tavernake?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.  “The fact is I am not in a position to help you.  I have left the employ of Messrs. Dowling, Spence & Company.”

“Of your own accord?” she inquired quietly.

“No, I was dismissed,” he confessed.  “I should have been compelled to leave in a very short time, but Mr. Dowling forestalled me.”

“Won’t you sit down and tell me about it?” she invited.

He looked her in the eyes, square and unflinching.  He was still able to do that!

“It could not possibly interest you,” he said.

“And—­ my sister?  You have seen her?”

“I have seen your sister,” Tavernake answered, without hesitation.

“You have a message for me?”

“None,” he declared.

“She refuses—­ to be reconciled, then?”

“I am afraid she has no friendly feelings towards you.”

“She gave you no reason?”

“No direct reason,” he admitted, “but her attitude is—­ quite uncompromising.”

She rose and swept across the floor towards him.  With firm but gentle fingers she took his worn bowler hat and mended gloves from his hand.  Her gesture guided him towards a sofa.

“Beatrice has prejudiced you against me,” she murmured.  “It is not fair.  Please come and sit down—­ for five minutes,” she pleaded.  “I want you to tell me why you have quarrelled with that funny little man, Mr. Dowling.”

“But, madam,—­” he protested.

“If you refuse, I shall think that my sister has been telling you stories about me,” she declared, watching him closely.

Tavernake drew a little away from her but seated himself on the sofa which she had indicated.  He took up as much room as possible, and to his relief she did not persist in her first intention, which was obviously to seat herself beside him.

“Your sister has told me nothing about you whatsoever,” he said deliberately.  “At the same time, she asked me not to give you her address.”