“Your niece, Virginia Longworth,” Norris Vine repeated thoughtfully.  “Are you in earnest, sir?”

“I am in earnest,” Duge answered.

“Then I have done nothing with her,” Vine declared.  “I do not know where she is.  I do not know why you should ask me?”

“You lie!” Phineas Duge said quietly.  “But let that go.  It is your trade, of course.  I came here to give you the opportunity of answering questions.  I scarcely expected that such direct methods would appeal to you.”

“Your methods, at any rate,” Vine said, moving toward the bell, “are not such as I am disposed to permit in my own apartment.”

Phineas Duge stretched out his hand.

“One moment, Mr. Vine,” he said.

Vine stopped.

“Well?” he asked.

“I refer again,” Phineas Duge said, “to the question of my niece.  As regards those other matters, if you do not wish to discuss them with me, let them go.  Even in this country you will find that I am not powerless.  But as regards my niece, I insist upon some explanation from you.”

“Some explanation of what?” Vine asked.

“When she left New York a few months ago,” Phineas Duge continued, “you and she were strangers.  Granted that she came upon a silly errand, still it was not wholly her own fault, and she was only a simple child who ought never to have been permitted to have left America,”

“Up to that point, Mr. Duge,” Vine said drily, “I am entirely in accord with you.”

“She made your acquaintance somehow,” Phineas Duge continued, “and you were seen out with her at different restaurants; once, I believe, at a place of amusement.  She left her boarding-house and took rooms here in this building.  Her room, I find, was across the corridor, only a few feet away from yours.  What is there between you and my niece, Norris Vine?”

Vine leaned against the table, and a faint smile flickered over his face.

“Really, Mr. Duge,” he said, “you must forgive my amusement.  The idea that anything so trivial as the well-being of a niece should interest you in the slightest, seems to me almost paradoxical.”

Phineas Duge was silent for several moments, his keen eyes fixed upon Vine’s face.

“Pray enjoy your jests as much as you will, Mr. Vine,” he said, “but answer my questions.”

“Your niece,” Norris Vine said, “came over here to rob me, at whose instigation I can only surmise.  My first introduction to her was in my room, where she came as a thief.  What consideration have you ever shown, Phineas Duge, even to the innocent who have crossed your paths?  Why should you expect that I should show consideration to this simple child who came across the ocean to steal from me?”

There was still no change in Duge’s face, but a little breath came quickly through his teeth, and, as though insensibly, he moved a little nearer to the man opposite him.

“Where is she now, Norris Vine?” he asked.