Force pointed to a chair. "Sit down. Are you sure no one can hear what
I'm saying?"

"No one but yours truly," said Mr. Bingle, assuming a jauntiness he
did not feel. He sat down, his back as stiff as a board.

His visitor leaned forward, his hands grasping the arms of the chair.
"Well, I'll tell you something, Bingle, that will paralyse you. I--I
didn't sleep a wink last night."

"That doesn't paralyse me. Neither did I--"

"This is no time to be funny, Bingle," said the other roughly. "Do you
want to know what kept me awake all night, suffering the torments of
the damned?"

"I do," responded Mr. Bingle, casting a quick glance at Mr. Force's
jaw. He knew what it was to have a toothache.

"Well, it was that miserable business about--about Kathleen," said
Force, a querulous note creeping into his voice. Mr. Bingle did not
think it worth while to tell him that it was the same miserable
business that kept him awake. "Now, I want the truth, Bingle. I want
to be sure before I go ahead. It means a great deal to both of us. Was
Kathleen's mother named Agnes Glenn?"

"It was," said Mr. Bingle, his eyes narrowing with the dawn of
comprehension.

"Did you ever see her?"