"You have described the spot and some of the circumstances of my daughter's death as accurately as if you had been there.But you have doubtless read a full account of those details in the papers;possibly seen pictures which would make the place quite real to you.The mind is a strange storehouse.We do not always know what lies hidden within it.""That's true,"she admitted."But the man!I had never seen the man,or any picture of him,and his face was clearest of all.Ishould know it if I saw it anywhere.It is imprinted on my memory as plainly as yours.Oh,I hope never to see that man!"Mr.Challoner sighed;he had really anticipated something from the interview.The disappointment was keen.A moment of expectation;the thrill which comes to us all under the shadow of the supernatural,and then -this!a young and imaginative girl's dream,convincing to herself but supplying nothing which had not already been supplied both by the facts and his own imagination!A man had stood at the staircase,and this man had raised his arm.She said that she had seen something like a pistol in his hand,but his daughter had not been shot.This he thought it well to point out to her.
Leaning toward her that he might get her full attention,he waited till her eyes met his,then quietly asked:
"Have you ever named this man to yourself?"
She started and dropped her eyes.
"I do not dare to,"said she.
"Why?"
"Because I've read in the papers that the man who stood there had the same name as -""Tell me,Miss Scott."
"As Mr.Brotherson's brother."
"But you do not think it was his brother?"
"I do not know."
"You've never seen his brother?"
"Never."
"Nor his picture?
"No,Mr.Brotherson has none."
"Aren't they friends?Does he never mention Orlando?""Very,very rarely.But I've no reason to think they are not on good terms.I know they correspond.""Miss Scott?"
"Yes,Mr.Challoner."
"You must not rely too much upon your dream."Her eyes flashed to his and then fell again.
"Dreams are not revelations;they are the reproduction of what already lies hidden in the mind.I can prove that your dream is such.""How?"She looked startled.
"You speak of seeing something being leveled at you which made you think of a pistol.""Yes,I was looking directly into it."
"But my daughter was not shot.She died from a stab."Doris'lovely face,with its tender lines and girlish curves,took on a strange look of conviction which deepened,rather than melted under his indulgent,but penetrating gaze.
"I know that you think so;-but my dream says no.I saw this object.It was pointed directly towards me -above all,I saw his face.It was the face of one whose finger is on the trigger and who means death;and I believe my dream."Well,it was useless to reason further.Gentle in all else,she was immovable so for as this idea was concerned and,seeing this,he let the matter go and prepared to take his leave.
She seemed to be quite ready for this.Anxiety about her patient had regained its place in her mind and her glance sped constantly toward the door.Taking her hand in his,he said some kind words,then crossed to the door and opened it.Instantly her finger flew to her lips and,obedient to its silent injunction,he took up his hat in silence,and was proceeding down the hall,when the bell rang,startling them both and causing him to step quickly back.
"Who is it?"she asked."Father's in and visitors seldom come so late.""Shall I see?"
She nodded,looking strangely troubled as the door swung open,revealing the tall,strong figure of a man facing them from the porch.
"A stranger,"formed itself upon her lips,and she was moving forward,when the man suddenly stepped into the glare of the light,and she stopped,with a murmur of dismay which pierced Mr.
Challoner's heart and prepared him for the words which now fell shudderingly from her lips:
"It is he!it is he!I said that I should know him wherever Isaw him."Then with a quiet turn towards the intruder,"Oh,why,why,did you come here!"
XXIX
DO YOU KNOW MY BROTHER
Her hands were thrust out to repel,her features were fixed;her beauty something wonderful.Orlando Brotherson,thus met,stared for a moment at the vision before him,then slowly and with effort withdrawing his gaze,he sought the face of Mr.Challoner with the first sign of open disturbance that gentleman had ever seen in him.
"Ah,"said he,"my welcome is readily understood.I see you far from home,sir."And with an ironical bow he turned again to Doris,who had dropped her hands,but in whose cheeks the pallor still lingered in a way to check the easy flow of words with which he might have sought to carry off the situation."Am I in Oswald Brotherson's house?"he asked."I was directed here.But possibly there may be some mistake.""It is here he lives,"said she;moving back automatically till she stood again by the threshold of the small room in which she had received Mr.Challoner."Do you wish to see him to-night?If so,I fear it is impossible.He has been very ill and is not allowed to receive visits from strangers.""I am not a stranger,"announced the newcomer,with a smile few could see unmoved,it offered such a contrast to his stern and dominating figure."I thought I heard some words of recognition which would prove your knowledge of that fact."She did not answer.Her lips had parted,but her thought or at least the expression of her thought hung suspended in the terror of this meeting for which she was not at all prepared.He seemed to note this terror,whether or not he understood its cause,and smiled again,as he added:
"Mr.Brotherson must have spoken of his brother Orlando.I am he,Miss Scott.Will you let me come in now?"Her eyes sought those of Mr.Challoner,who quietly nodded.
Immediately she stepped from before the door which her figure had guarded and,motioning him to enter,she begged Mr.Challoner,with an imploring look,to sustain her in the interview she saw before her.He had no desire for this encounter,especially as Mr.
