The father sprang to his feet with a quick, jealous gasp
of pain. "Give her to me!" he said, fiercely, under his
breath, snatching her out of Van Bibber's arms. "She is mine;
give her to me!"

Van Bibber closed the door gently behind him, and went
jumping down the winding stairs of the Berkeley three steps at
a time.

And an hour later, when the English servant came to his
master's door, he found him still awake and sitting in the
dark by the open window, holding something in his arms and
looking out over the sleeping city.

"James," he said, "you can make up a place for me here on
the lounge. Miss Caruthers, my daughter, will sleep in my
room to-night."



Van Bibber's Man Servant

Van Bibber's man Walters was the envy and admiration of
his friends. He was English, of course, and he had been
trained in the household of the Marquis Bendinot, and had
travelled, in his younger days, as the valet of young Lord
Upton. He was now rather well on in years, although it would
have been impossible to say just how old he was. Walters had
a dignified and repellent air about him, and he brushed his