"It's singular, but it's true," said the detective musingly when next he
spoke, "that I am now going to ask you to act differently than was in my
mind when I sought this interview. I should vastly like to be present
when Siddle bares his heart to you this afternoon.

"I can invite you to tea."

Alas! that won't serve our ends. But, if you feel you have a purpose, you
will be nerved to deal with him. Bring him out into that secluded garden
of yours--"

"The first thing he will suggest," and Doris's voice waxed
unconsciously bitter. "He knows that dad will be busy with the mails
for an hour after tea."

"Good!"

"I think it bad, most disagreeable."

"You won't find the position so awkward if you are playing a part. And
that is what I want--a bit of clever acting. Lean on those railings, and
make Siddle believe that your heart is on Mr. Grant's lawn. You know the
kind of thing I mean. Dreamy eyes, listless manner, inattention, with
smiling apologies. You will annoy Siddle, and a cautious man in a temper
becomes less cautious. Force him to avow his real thoughts. You will
learn something, trust me."

"About what?"

There were no tears in Doris's eyes. They were wide open in wonderment.