another step to save my life. I just stood there, my hand on the
knob, trembling like a leaf.

A man was standing by the south window looking out; he wheeled
around as I went in, and, as Nancy said, he had a scowl on and
looked angry clear through. He was very handsome, and his gray
hair gave him such a distinguished look. I recalled this
afterward, but just at the moment you may be quite sure I wasn't
thinking about it at all.

Then all at once a strange thing happened. The scowl went right
off his face and the anger out of his eyes. He looked
astonished, and then foolish. I saw the color creeping up into
his cheeks. As for me, I still stood there staring at him, not
able to say a single word.

"Miss Holmes, I presume," he said at last, in a deep, thrilling
voice. "I--I--oh, confound it! I have called--I heard some
foolish stories and I came here in a rage. I've been a fool--I
know now they weren't true. Just excuse me and I'll go away and
kick myself."

"No," I said, finding my voice with a gasp, "you mustn't go until
you've heard the truth. It's dreadful enough, but not as
dreadful as you might otherwise think. Those--those stories--I
have a confession to make. I did tell them, but I didn't know
there was such a person as Cecil Fenwick in existence."

He looked puzzled, as well he might. Then he smiled, took my
hand and led me away from the door--to the knob of which I was