Her father made no reply; she repeated it till he granted, "I knew where it might be. I sent for it."
"But--but, Father--" It came to her now that her father must know who Hugh was. "Who--"
"I know who he is now," her father said calmly. "I will tell you when I can."
"Yes," he said. He was still an instant; she waited. "Where is Avery?" he asked her, as though his mind had gone to another subject instantly.
"He has not been in, I believe, since noon."
"Send for him. Tell him I wish to see him here at the house; he is to remain within the house until I have seen him."
Something in her father's tone startled and perplexed her; she thought of Donald now only as the most eager and most vindictive of Eaton's pursuers. Was her father removing Donald from among those seeking Eaton? Was he sending for him because what he had just learned was something which would make more rigorous and desperate the search? The blind man's look and manner told her nothing.
"You mean Donald is to wait here until you send for him, Father?"
It was the blind man's tone of dismissal. He seemed to have forgotten the picture; at least, as his daughter moved toward the door, he gave no direction concerning it. She halted, looking back at him. She would not carry the picture away, secretly, like this. She was not ashamed of her love for Eaton; whatever might be said or thought of him, she trusted him; she was proud of her love for him.
"May I take the picture?" she asked steadily.
"Do whatever you want with it," her father answered quietly.
And so she took it with her. She found a servant of whom she inquired for Avery; he had not returned so she sent for him. She went down to the deserted library and waited there with the picture of Hugh in her hand. The day had drawn to dusk. She could no longer see the picture in the fading light; she could only recall it; and now, as she recalled it, the picture itself---not her memory of her father's manner in relation to it--gave her vague discomfort. She got up suddenly, switched on the light and, holding the picture close to it, studied it. What it was in the picture that gave her this strange uneasiness quite separate and distinct from all that she had felt when she first looked at it, she could not tell; but the more she studied it, the more troubled and frightened she grew.