permitted himself a moment of retrospection, and there was a gleam of
very different things in his face, a touch almost of the savage in the
clenched teeth and sudden tightening of the lips. One might have
gathered that this man was living through a period of strain.

The entrance of the young lady of the house, after a delay of about
ten minutes, was noiseless and unannounced. Her visitor, however, was
prepared for it. She came towards him with an air of pleasant enquiry
in her very charming face--a young woman in the early twenties, of
little more than medium height, with complexion inclined to be pale,
deep grey eyes, and a profusion of dark brown, almost copper-coloured
hair. She carried herself delightfully and her little smile of welcome
was wonderfully attractive, although her deportment and manner were a
little serious for her years.

"You wish to see me?" she asked. "I am Miss Beverley--Miss Katharine
Beverley." "Sometimes known as Sister Katharine," her visitor
remarked, with a smile.

"More often than by my own name," she assented. "Do you come from the
hospital?"

He shook his head and glanced behind her to be sure that the door was
closed.

"Please do not think that my coming means any trouble, Miss Beverley,"
he said, "but if you look at me more closely you will perhaps
recognise me. You will perhaps remember--a promise."

He stepped a little forward from his position of obscurity to where