he looked up.

"Come in and sit down," he said. The voice was alert and businesslike--
the voice of a man accustomed to command. But I could find no trace of
feeling in it, nothing that could tell me of the hatred or desperate
purpose that should inspire such a tragedy as I had witnessed, or warn
me of danger to come.

"Do you hear?" he said impatiently; "shut the door and sit down. Just
spring that lock, will you? We might be interrupted."

I was not at all certain that I should not wish very earnestly that he
might be interrupted in what Bret Harte would call the "subsequent
proceedings." But I followed his directions.

Doddridge Knapp was not less impressive at close view than at long
range. The strong face grew stronger when seen from the near distance.

"My dear Wilton," he said, "I've come to a place where I've got to
trust somebody, so I've come back to you." The voice was oily and
persuasive, but the keen gray eyes shot out a glance from under the
bushing eyebrows that thrilled me as a warning.

"It's very kind of you," I said, swallowing my astonishment with an
effort.

"Well," said Knapp, "the way you handled that Ophir matter was
perfectly satisfactory; but I'll tell you that it's on Mrs. Knapp's
say-so, as much as on your own doings, that I select you for this job."