Ascham smiled. "I thought you'd be interested; I know your passion
for _causes celebres_. And this promises to be one. Of course it's
out of our line entirely--we never touch criminal cases. But she
wanted to consult me as a friend. Ashgrove was a distant connection
of my wife's. And, by Jove, it _is_ a queer case!" The servant
re-entered, and Ascham snapped his lips shut.

Would the gentlemen have their coffee in the dining-room?

"No--serve it in the library," said Granice, rising. He led the way
back to the curtained confidential room. He was really curious to
hear what Ascham had to tell him.

While the coffee and cigars were being served he fidgeted about the
library, glancing at his letters--the usual meaningless notes and
bills--and picking up the evening paper. As he unfolded it a
headline caught his eye.

"ROSE MELROSE WANTS TO PLAY POETRY.

"THINKS SHE HAS FOUND HER POET."

He read on with a thumping heart--found the name of a young author
he had barely heard of, saw the title of a play, a "poetic drama,"
dance before his eyes, and dropped the paper, sick, disgusted. It
was true, then--she _was_ "game"--it was not the manner but the
matter she mistrusted!

Granice turned to the servant, who seemed to be purposely lingering.