"I did not know him until--five minutes ago. You had better ask me no more questions, Miss Carew."

"But can you not tell me, from your knowledge of Allen's parents, why Mr. Edermont has quarrelled with him?"

"If Mr. Edermont is the man I take him to be, I can. But I shall not tell you, Miss Dora."

"Why not?"

The housekeeper shuddered.

"I dare not," she said in a trembling tone. "Oh, my dear, why did you come to-day? I know much, but I dare not speak."

"Is your knowledge so very terrible?"

"It is more terrible than you can guess."

"Does Mr. Edermont know as much as you do?"

"Mr.--Edermont," said the housekeeper, with a pause before the name, "knows more than I do."

"I do not see why I should be kept in the dark," said Dora petulantly. "All that concerns Allen concerns me."

"In that case," observed Mrs. Tice calmly, "I can only recommend you to wait until Mr. Allen returns. If he chooses to tell you, well and good; but for my part, I prefer to keep silent about the past."

"But is that fair to me, Mrs. Tice?"

"Silence is more than fair to you in this case," said the old dame, looking steadily at the eager face of the young girl. "It is merciful."

"Merciful? That is a strange word to use."

"It is the only word that can be used," replied Mrs. Tice emphatically. "No, do not ask me any more, my dear young lady. The secret I hold is not my own to tell. Should Mr. Allen give me permission to reveal it, I shall do so; otherwise I prefer to be silent."

One would have thought that this speech was final; but Dora was too bent upon learning the truth of Allen's strange behaviour to be satisf