Miss Burton come down?"

"Miss Burton, sir," replied the man with a shade of uneasiness in his
voice, "sent word by her maid that she would breakfast in her room."

The naïve smile faded from Hamilton Burton's face and for an instant it
took on something of that aggressive set which men in the Stock-Exchange
had come to recognize as precursor of a frenzied day.

"Send word to my sister," he directed quietly, "that I insistently
request her to join us at breakfast. I must see her before I leave the
house." He strode with a resilient step about the room, pausing idly
before a favorite landscape here and prized bronze there. Patience was
one quality which Hamilton Burton had not spent great effort in
acquiring. It was his custom to let others adapt themselves to his
convenience, yet his eyes were unruffled as he smilingly turned to his
secretary. "'Serene I wait--with folded hands,'" he murmured.

But when Harrow returned it was as bearer of a message which marred the
serenity of this waiting.

"Miss Burton sends word, sir, that she will receive you in her boudoir
in a half-hour. She does not find it convenient to come down to
breakfast."

For a moment, Hamilton Burton remained standing and his gray eyes
flashed forebodingly, though the line of his lips was not deflected.
Then he led the way to the breakfast-room.

"Tell Miss Burton," he ordered shortly, "that we are awaiting her in the