"On a mission of my ministry," he replied solemnly, "although whether it prove of joy, or sorrow, I am unable to say. I am but an instrument."
The man's reluctance to speak freely was apparent, and I stepped forward.
"If you prefer conversing with Miss Harwood alone," I said quietly, "I will retire."
"The words I would speak are indeed of a confidential nature—"
"No, no!" she broke in impulsively, her eyes of appeal turned toward me. "Do not leave us, Lieutenant. This man has nothing to say I am afraid to have you hear. He has not come here as a friend; there is some evil purpose in all this, which I cannot fathom." She faced him now, her slender body poised, her eyes on his. "Tell me what it is this mysterious mission? Ay! and who sent you to find me? I will not believe it was my father."
The minister rose to his feet, a tall, ungainly figure, his solemn face as expressionless as before, but a smouldering resentment was in his deep-set eyes. He possessed the look of a fanatic, one who would hesitate at nothing to gain his end. To me he was even repulsive in his narrow bigotry.
"No, it was not your father," he said almost coarsely, "but it is a part of my mission to bring to you, young woman, the news of your father's death."
