If Emily's eyes could have followed Alban as her thoughts werefollowing him, she would have seen him stop before he reached theend of the road in which the cottage stood. His heart was full oftenderness and sorrow: the longing to return to her was more thanhe could resist. It would be easy to wait, within view of thegate, until the doctor's visit came to an end. He had justdecided to go back and keep watch--when he heard rapid footstepsapproaching. There (devil take him!) was the doctor himself.

"I have something to say to you, Mr. Morris. Which way are youwalking?"

"Any way," Alban answered--not very graciously.

"Then let us take the turning that leads to my house. It's notcustomary for strangers, especially when they happen to beEnglishmen, to place confidence in each other. Let me set theexample of violating that rule. I want to speak to you about MissEmily. May I take your arm? Thank you. At my age, girls ingeneral--unless they are my patients--are not objects of interestto me. But that girl at the cottage--I daresay I am in mydotage--I tell you, sir, she has bewitched me! Upon my soul, Icould hardly be more anxious about her, if I was her father. And,mind, I am not an affectionate man by nature. Are you anxiousabout her too?"

"Yes."

"In what way?"

"In what way are you anxious, Doctor Allday?"

The doctor smiled grimly.

"You don't trust me? Well, I have promised to set the example.Keep your mask on, sir--mine is off, come what may of it. But,observe: if you repeat what I am going to say--"

Alban would hear no more. "Whatever you may say, Doctor Allday,is trusted to my honor. If you doubt my honor, be so good as tolet go my arm--I am not walking your way."

The doctor's hand tightened its grasp. "That little flourish oftemper, my dear sir, is all I want to set me at my ease. I feel Ihave got hold of the right man. Now answer me this. Have you everheard of a person named Miss Jethro?"

Alban suddenly came to a standstill.

"All right!" said the doctor. "I couldn't have wished for a moresatisfactory reply."

"Wait a minute," Alban interposed. "I know Miss Jethro as ateacher at Miss Ladd's school, who left her situationsuddenly--and I know no more."

The doctor's peculiar smile made its appearance again.

"Speaking in the vulgar tone," he said, "you seem to be in ahurry to wash your hands of Miss Jethro."

"I have no reason to feel any interest in her," Alban replied.

"Don't be too sure of that, my friend. I have something to tellyou which may alter your opinion. That ex-teacher at the school,sir, knows how the late Mr. Brown met his death, and how hisdaughter has been deceived about it."

Alban listened with surprise--and with some little doubt, whichhe thought it wise not to acknowledge.

"The report of the inquest alludes to a 'relative' who claimedthe body," he said. "Was that 'relative' the person who deceivedMiss Emily? And was the person her aunt?"

"I must leave you to take your own view," Doctor Allday replied."A promise binds me not to repeat the information that I havereceived. Setting that aside, we have the same object inview--and we must take care not to get in each other's way. Hereis my house. Let us go in, and make a clean breast of it on bothsides."

Established in the safe seclusion of his study, the doctor setthe example of confession in these plain terms:

"We only differ in opinion on one point," he said. "We both thinkit likely (from our experience of the women) that the suspectedmurderer had an accomplice. I say the guilty person is MissJethro. You say--Mrs. Rook."

"When you have read my copy of the report," Alban answered, "Ithink you will arrive at my conclusion. Mrs. Rook might haveentered the outhouse in which the two men slept, at any timeduring the night, while her husband was asleep. The jury believedher when she declared that she never woke till the morning. Idon't."

"I am open to conviction, Mr. Morris. Now about the future. Doyou mean to go on with your inquiries?"

"Even if I had no other motive than mere curiosity," Albananswered, "I think I should go on. But I have a more urgentpurpose in view. All that I have done thus far, has been done inEmily's interests. My object, from the first, has been topreserve her from any association--in the past or in thefuture--with the woman whom I believe to have been concerned inher father's death. As I have already told you, she is innocentlydoing all she can, poor thing, to put obstacles in my way."

"Yes, yes," said the doctor; "she means to write to Mrs.Rook--and you have nearly quarreled about it. Trust me to takethat matter in hand. I don't regard it as serious. But I ammortally afraid of what you are doing in Emily's interests. Iwish you would give it up."

"Why?"

"Because I see a danger. I don't deny that Emily is as innocentof suspicion as ever. But the chances, next time, may be againstus. How do you know to what lengths your curiosity may lead you?Or on what shocking discoveries you may not blunder with the bestintentions? Some unforeseen accident may open her eyes to thetruth, before you can prevent it. I seem to surprise you?"

"You do, indeed, surprise me."

"In the old story, my dear sir, Mentor sometimes surprisedTelemachus. I am Mentor--without being, I hope, quite solong-winded as that respectable philosopher. Let me put it in twowords. Emily's happiness is precious to you. Take care you arenot made the means of wrecking it! Will you consent to asacrifice, for her sake?"

"I will do anything for her sake."

"Will you give up your inquiries?"

"From this moment I have done with them!"

"Mr. Morris, you are the best friend she has."

"The next best friend to you, doctor."

In that fond persuasion they now parted--too eagerly devoted toEmily to look at the prospect before them in its least hopefulaspect. Both clever men, neither one nor the other asked himselfif any human resistance has ever yet obstructed the progress oftruth--when truth has once begun to force its way to the light.

For the second time Alban stopped, on his way home. The longingto be reconciled with Emily was not to be resisted. He returnedto the cottage, only to find disappointment waiting for him. Theservant reported that her young mistress had gone to bed with abad headache.

Alban waited a day, in the hope that Emily might write to him. Noletter arrived. He repeated his visit the next morning. Fortunewas still against him. On this occasion, Emily was engaged.

"Engaged with a visitor?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. A young lady named Miss de Sor."

Where had he heard that name before? He remembered immediatelythat he had heard it at the school. Miss de Sor was theunattractive new pupil, whom the girls called Francine. Albanlooked at the parlor window as he left the cottage. It was ofserious importance that he should set himself right with Emily."And mere gossip," he thought contemptuously, "stands in my way!"

If he had been less absorbed in his own interests, he might haveremembered that mere gossip is not always to be despised. It hasworked fatal mischief in its time.