"I don't think he'll dare come here again," went on Helen. "He's exceedingly offensive, and yet he has about him a certain magnetism that compels your attention, even while his manner and look repels and irritates. Only the other day he——"
Before she could complete the sentence, there was a loud ring at the front door bell. Helen hastily rose, but Ray had already gone forward.
"It's Mr. Parker," she cried. "I saw him coming from the window."
The next instant the door of the drawing-room was flung open and Mr. Parker appeared.
"Hallo, ladies! Howdy, Steell!"
The president of the Americo-African Mining Company was not looking his usual debonair self that evening. His manner was nervous and flustered, his face pale and drawn with anxious lines. His coat lacked the customary boutonnière, and his crumpled linen and unshaved chin suggested that he had come direct from his office after a strenuous day without stopping to go through the formality of making a change of attire.
Helen was quick to note the alteration in his appearance, and her first instinct, naturally, was to associate it with her husband. Something was amiss.
"There's nothing wrong, is there?" she asked in alarm.
"No, no, my dear woman!"
But his tone was not convincing. He always called her "my dear woman" when nervous or excited, and "my dear lady" in his calmer moods. She at once remarked it, and it did not tend to reassure her. Now greatly alarmed she laid a trembling hand on his arm.