"Where's Hathaway?"

Mary Louise reddened.

"I do not know to whom you refer," she answered quietly.

"Aren't you his granddaughter?"

"I am the granddaughter of Colonel James Weatherby, sir."

"It's all the same; Hathaway or Weatherby, the scoundrel can't disguise
his personality. Where is he?"

She did not reply. Her eyes had narrowed a little, as the Colonel's were
sometimes prone to do, and her lips were pressed firmly together.

"Answer me!" he shouted, waving his arms threateningly.

"Miss Stearne," Mary Louise said, turning to the principal, "unless you
request your guest to be more respectful I shall leave the room."

"Not yet you won't," said the man in a less boisterous tone. "Don't
annoy me with your airs, for I'm in a hurry. Where is Hathaway--or
Weatherby--or whatever he calls himself?"

"I do not know."

"You don't, eh? Didn't he leave an address?"

"No."