“Fear not, but lean on Dollinger
   And he will fetch you through”—­

quoted the other in oratorical assurance, and turned to Mrs. Willard’s greeting.

At one-thirty on the following day, Mr. McGuire Ellis was where he shouldn’t have been, asleep in a curtained alcove window-seat of the big Willard library.  At one minute past two he was where he should have been still less; that is, in the same place and condition.  Now Mr. Ellis is not only the readiest hair-trigger sleeper known to history, but he is also one of the most profound and persistent.  Entrances and exits disturb him not, nor does the human voice penetrate to the region of his dreams.  To everything short of earthquake, explosion, or physical contact, his slumber is immune.  Therefore he took no note when Miss Esme Elliot came in, nor when, a moment later, Mr. Harrington Surtaine arrived, unannounced.  Nor, since he was thoroughly shut in by the draperies, was either of them aware of his presence.

Esme rose slowly to her feet as Hal entered.  She had planned a leading-up to her subject, but at sight of him she was startled out of any greeting, even.

“Oh, how thin you look, and tired!” she exclaimed.

“Strenuous days, these,” he answered.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.  Where’s Ellis?”

“Upstairs.  Don’t go.  I want to speak to you.  Sit down there.”

At her direction Hal drew up a chair.  She took the corner of the lounge near by and regarded him silently from under puckered brows.

“Is it about Ellis?” said Hal, alarmed at her hesitation.

“No.  It is about Mr. Pierce.  There won’t be any libel suit.”

“What!”

“No.”  She shook her head in reassurance of his evident incredulity.  “You’ve nothing to worry about, there.”

“How can you know?”

“From Kathie.”

“Did her father tell her?”

“She told her father.  There’s a dreadful quarrel.”

“I don’t understand at all.”

“Kathie absolutely refuses to testify for her father.  She says that the accident was her own fault, and if there’s a trial she will tell the truth.”

Before she had finished, Hal was on his feet.  Her heart smote her as she saw the gray worry pass from his face and his shoulders square as from the relief of a burden lifted, “Has it lain so heavy on your mind?” she asked pitifully.

“If you knew!” He walked half the length of the long room, then turned abruptly.  “You did that,” he said.  “You persuaded her.”

“No.  I didn’t, indeed.”

The eager light faded in his face.  “Of course not.  Why should you after—­Do you mind telling me how it happened?”

“It isn’t my secret.  But—­but she has come to care very much for some one, and it is his influence.”

“Wonderful!” He laughed boyishly.  “I want to go out and run around and howl.  Would you mind joining me in the college yell?  Does Mac know?”