must be done though the heavens fell.

This conviction grew on Theydon as his cab scurried across the Thames
and along Birdcage Walk. A pretty conceit could not be allowed to
sweep aside the first principles of citizenship. Indeed, so reassuring
was this reasoned judgment that he felt a sense of relief as he paid
off the cab and rang the bell of the Forbes mansion.

He gave his name to a footman, who disposed of his overcoat and hat,
and led him to an upstairs drawing room. Even the most fleeting
glances at hall and staircase revealed evidences of a highly trained
artistic taste gratified by great wealth. The furniture, the china,
the pictures, were each and all rare and well chosen.

"Mr. Theydon," announced the man, throwing wide the door.

A lady, bent over some prints spread on a distant table, turned at the
words, and hastened to greet the guest.

"My father is expecting you, Mr. Theydon," she said. "He was detained
rather late in the city, but will be here now at any moment."

Theydon was no neurotic boy, whose surcharged nerves were liable to
crack in a crisis demanding some unusual measure of self-control. Yet
the room and its contents-- and, not least, the graceful girl
advancing with outstretched hand-- swam before his eyes.

Because this was "Evelyn," and it was certain as the succession of
night to day that Mrs. Lester's mysterious visitor must have been
"Evelyn's" father, James Creighton Forbes.