ruffian of twenty-four hours before, he who was drinking claret (and very good claret too) mixed with water and listening with a polite interest to all the details of his daughter’s journey?  Even the doctor looked a gentleman, which doubtless he was once upon a time, in evening dress.  Moreover, some kind of truce had been arranged.  He no longer called Miss Heda “My dear” or attempted any familiarities, while she on more than one occasion very distinctly called him Dr. Rodd.

So much for that night and for several others that followed.  As for the days they went by pleasantly and idly.  Heda walked about on her father’s arm, conversed in friendly fashion with the doctor, always watching him, I noticed, as a cat watches a dog that she knows is waiting an opportunity to spring, and for the rest associated with us as much as she could.  Particularly did she seem to take refuge behind my own insignificance, having, I suppose, come to the conclusion that I was a harmless person who might possibly prove useful.  But all the while I felt that the storm was banking up.  Indeed Marnham himself, at any rate to a great extent, played the part of the cloud-compelling Jove, for soon it became evident to me, and without doubt to Dr. Rodd also, that he was encouraging the intimacy between his daughter and Anscombe by every means in his power.

In one way and another he had fully informed himself as to Anscombe’s prospects in life, which were brilliant enough.  Moreover he liked the man who, as the remnant of the better perceptions of his youth told him, was one of the best class of Englishmen, and what is more, he saw that Heda liked him also, as much indeed as she disliked Rodd.  He even spoke to me of the matter in a round-about kind of fashion, saying that the young woman who married Anscombe would be lucky and that the father who had him for a son-in-law might go to his grave confident of his child’s happiness.  I answered that I agreed with him, unless the lady’s affections had already caused her to form other ties.

“Affections!” he exclaimed, dropping all pretence, “there are none involved in this accursed business, as you are quite sharp enough to have seen for yourself.”

“I understood that an engagement was involved,” I remarked.

“On my part, perhaps, not on hers,” he answered.  “Oh! can’t you understand, Quatermain, that sometimes men find themselves forced into strange situations against their will?”

Remembering the very ugly name that I had heard Rodd call Marnham on the night of the card party, I reflected that I could understand well enough, but I only said—­

“After all marriage is a matter that concerns a woman even more than it does her father, one, in short, of which she must be the judge.”

“Quite so, Quatermain, but there are some daughters who are prepared to make great sacrifices for their fathers.  Well, she will be of age ere long, if only I can stave it off till then.  But how, how?” and with a groan he turned and left me.