ha
roses were trained into a graceful mosque, now daintily glorious with
its solid covering of yellow-hearted red blooms. Within this retreat was
a rustic bench, and on this Hunt seated her and took a place beside her.
He looked her over with the cool, direct, studious eyes which reminded
her of his gaze when he had been painting her.

"Well, Maggie," he finally commented, "you certainly look the part you
picked out for yourself, and you seem to be putting it over. Always had
an idea you could handle something big if you went after it. How d'you
like the life, being a swell lady crook?"

She had hardly heard his banter. She needed to ask him no questions
about his presence here; his ease of bearing had conveyed to her
unconsciously from the first instant that her previous half-contemptuous
estimate of him had been altogether wrong and that he was now in his
natural element. Her first question went straight to the cause of her
amazement.

"Didn't you recognize me when you first saw me with Miss Sherwood?"

"Yes."

"Weren't you surprised?"

"Nope," he answered with deliberate monosyllabioness.

"Why not?"

"I'd been wised up that I'd be likely to meet you--and here."

"Here! By whom?"

"By advice of counsel I must decline to answer."

"Why didn't you tell Miss Sherwood who I am and show me up?"

"Because I'd been requested not to tell."

"Requested by whom?"

"Maggie," he drawled, "you seem to be making a go of this lady crook
business--but I think you might have been even more of a shining light
as a criminal cross-examiner. However, I refuse to be cross-examined
further. By the way," he drawled on, "how goes it with those dear souls,
Barney and Old Jimmie?"

She ignored his question.

"Please! Who asked you not to tell?"

There was a sudden glint of good-humored malice in his eyes. "Mind if I
smoke?"

"No."

He drew out a silver cigarette case and opened it. "Empty!" he
exclaimed. "Excuse me while I get something from the house to smoke.
I'll be right back."

Without waiting for her permission he stepped out of the arbor and she
heard his footsteps crunching up the gravel path. Maggie waited his
return in pulsing suspense. Her situation had been developing beyond
anything she had ever dreamed of; she was aquiver as to what might
happen next. So absorbed was she in her chaos of feeling and thoughts
that she did not even hear the humble symphony of the hundreds of bees
drawing their treasure