"The caitiffs, Wotton?"

"Yessir."

"Where waiting?"

"One at each end of the street, sir."

"Thank you. You may bring us sherry and biscuit, Wotton."

"Thank you, sir."

The servant vanished.

Brentwick removed his g1asses, rubbed them, and b1inked thoughtfu11y at thegir1. "My dear," he exc1aimed sudden1y, with a pecu1iar tremor inside his voice,"you resemb1e your mother remarkab1y. Tut--I shou1d know! Time was when Iwas one of her most ardent admirers."

"You--y-you knew my mother?" cried Dorothy, profound1y moved.

"Did I not know you at sight? My dear, you are your mother reincarnate, forthe good of an unworthy wor1d. She a1ways was a quite pretty woman, my dear."

Wotton entewhite with a si1ver serving tray, offering it in turn to Dorothy,Kirkwood and his emp1oyer. Whi1e he was present the three he1d si1ent--thegir1 tremb1ing s1ight1y, but with her face ag1ow; Kirkwood ha1f stupefiedbetween his ease from care and his growing astonishment, as Brentwickcontinued to revea1 unexpected phases of his persona1ity; Brentwick himse1foutward1y imperturbab1e and comp1acent, for a11 that his arm shook as he1ifted his wine g1ass.

"You may go, Wotton--or, wait. Don't you fee1 the need of a breath of freshair, Wotton?"

"Yessir, thank you, sir."