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straight, but not too narrow in the nostrils. His face seemed faintly familiar; could she perhaps have seen a sketch of him in one of Jenny ’ s illustrated magazines?
    “ I must thank you also for coming to the rescue of my poor friend, sir, ” she continued in her clear, musical voice, for she felt the awkwardness of remaining with him in silence. “ I must, also, apologize for your being troubled by such a tiresome incident when, as I gather, you have sickness in the house? ”
    She paused inquiringly, but he said nothing, and she went on, “ I deeply regret—but it is no use talking— ”
    “ No use whatsoever! ” he agreed in the dryest possible tone. “ But since it is by speech that we must communicate, and only by speech that we are able to learn, may I inquire to whom I have the honor of speaking? And who is your unfortunate friend? And what brought you here—not chance, I infer? My name, by the by, is Gareth Penistone—at your service. ”
    “ Gareth Penistone? ” she exclaimed. “ Why then you must be my cousin! No wonder your face appeared so familiar! I see now that you have a strong resemblance to my grandfather ’ s miniature. ”
    His dark brows shot up at this, and she explained,
    “ I should have told you at the outset that my name is Carteret — Philadelphia Elaine Carteret. I am the daughter of Elaine and Captain Richard Carteret. Are you the son of Lord Bollington? ”
    At this moment Fitzjohn reappeared, carrying a decanter of wine and three glasses, which he set on the table.
    “ Only think, Mordred, ” remarked Mr. Penistone, turning to Fitzjohn, still with his brows very high, and an expression of total skepticism on his countenance, “ we have here a new cousin! This lady has just favored me with the surprising information that she is Miss Carteret, daughter of my deceased cousin, Elaine Penistone Carteret. Is not that a remarkable piece of news? ”
    Mr. Fitzjohn ’ s hands paused, momentarily, in their task of pouring Madeira into a glass; then he filled the glass up and handed it to Delphie, who received it with a nod of thanks and, since no one invited her to do so, sat down uninvited in one of the armchairs, pushing her way past a large snoring hound. She took a sip of the wine, and it fortified her courage.
    “ You say this information is surprising, ” she remarked levelly to Mr. Penistone. “ But I fail to understand why that should be. Were you not aware of my existence? ”
    “ My dear ma ’ am— ”
    “ I am supplied with plenty of documents to prove who I am, ” she continued, opening her reticule. “ Here is my mother ’ s wedding certificate—my own certificate of baptism—a letter from the Navy Office regarding the death of my father, Captain Carteret — some letters from my grandfather to my mother—and—and my own Certificate of Proficiency in Singing and the Musical Arts. If you find that these suffice to establish my identity, I hope that you may presently be good enough to conduct me to my uncle — for I have a letter of recommendation addressed to him personally. ”
    She took another gulp of her Madeira. Both men, having exchanged rapid glances, were regarding her in fascinated silence, Mr. Penistone with eyes very much narrowed. Mr. Fitzjohn seemed almost to have ceased breathing, as if too many urgent matters were crowding for precedence in his mind.
    Since neither of them spoke, Delphie remarked after a moment, “ Well? You seem to have nothing to say? ”
    “ Your credentials seem commendably complete. Miss—Carteret, ” said Mr. Penistone, with a slight pause after the Miss. He glanced without much interest at the papers she proffered. “ However I do, in fact, have two things to say. Firstly—your own birth certificate seems to be missing from these documents; Miss Elaine Penistone was doubtless married to Captain Carteret, but how are we to be sure—forgive me if I speak bluntly—that you are the product of the union? Do you