"Oh!" remarked Bryce quietly. "That means--you wish me to go
away?"

"I certainly think it would be best," said Ransford.

"In that case," continued Bryce, more coolly than ever, "I
shall certainly want to know what you have against me--or what
Miss Bewery has against me. Why am I objected to as a suitor?
You, at any rate, know who I am--you know that my father is of
our own profession, and a man of reputation and standing, and
that I myself came to you on high recommendation. Looked at
from my standpoint, I'm a thoroughly eligible young man. And
there's a point you forget--there's no mystery about me!"

Ransford turned sharply in his chair as he noticed the
emphasis which Bryce put on his last word.

"What do you mean?" he demanded.

"What I've just said," replied Bryce. "There's no mystery
attaching to me. Any question about me can be answered. Now,
you can't say that as regards your ward. That's a fact, Dr.
Ransford."

Ransford, in years gone by, had practised himself in the art
of restraining his temper--naturally a somewhat quick one.
And he made a strong effort in that direction now, recognizing
that there was something behind his assistant's last remark,
and that Bryce meant him to know it was there.