“Don’t be, please.  What I’ve endured has done me no harm—­and to-night has seen the turn of my fortunes—­or else I’m hopelessly deluded.  Furthermore, some day I mean to square my account with Brian Shaynon to the fraction of a penny—­and within the law.”

“Oh, I do hope you may!”

P. Sybarite smiled serenely.  “I shall; and you can help me, if you will.”

“How?”

“Stick to your resolution to have no more to do with the family; retain a good lawyer to watch your interests under old Brian’s charge; and look out for yourself.”

“I’ll surely do all that, Mr. Sybarite; but I don’t understand—­”

“Well, if I’m not mistaken, it’ll help a lot.  Public disavowal of your engagement to Bayard will be likely to bring Shaynon’s affairs to a crisis.  I firmly believe they’re hard pressed for money—­that it wasn’t consolidation of two going-concerns for mutual advantage, but the finding of new capital for a moribund and insolvent house that they’ve been seeking through this marriage.  That’s why they were in such a hurry.  Even if Bayard were free—­as his father believes him to be—­why need the old man have been so unreasonable when all the delay you ask is another twelvemonth?  Believe me, he had some excellent reason for his anxiety.  Finally, if the old villain isn’t fomenting some especially foul villainy, why need he sneak from here to-night to the lowest dive in town to meet and confer with a gang leader and murderer like Red November?”

“What are you talking about now?” demanded the bewildered girl.

“An hour or so ago I met old Brian coming out of a dive known as Dutch House, the worst in this old Town.  What business had he there, if he’s an honest man?  I can’t tell you because I don’t know.  But it was foul—­that’s certain.  Else why need he have incited Red and his followers to drug Peter Kenny into forgetfulness?  Peter found him there before I did.  It was only after the deuce of a row that I got the boy away alive.”

Temporarily he suppressed mention of Peter’s hurt.  The girl had enough to occupy her without being subjected to further drain upon her sympathies.

“I’d like to know!” he wound up gloomily....  “That old scoundrel never visited Dutch House out of simple curiosity; and whatever his purpose, one thing’s sure—­it wasn’t one to stand daylight.  It’s been puzzling me ever since—­an appointment of some sort he made with November just as I hove within earshot. ‘Two-thirty,’ he said; and November repeated the hour and promised to be on the job.  ’Two-thirty!’—­what can it mean?  It’s later than that now but—­mark my words!—­something’s going to happen this afternoon, or to-morrow, or some time soon, at half-past two o’clock!”

“Perhaps you’re right,” said the girl doubtfully.  “And yet you may be wrong in thinking me involved in any way.  Indeed, I’m sure you must be wrong.  I can’t believe that he could wish me actual harm.”