clearing on the ridge and talks long and seriously to the deserted
wife about her duty.

[Illustration: Swearing terrible oaths that he will never return.]

But there was reason in Tip's contention regarding Weston. Indeed,
from Tim's account of events, I could see that the store had very
thoroughly threshed out the whole case and that the problem was not one
that could be solved by abstract reasoning. There was only one person
to solve it, and that was Robert Weston himself.

I knew enough of the world to know that it was not an unheard-of thing
for a man to settle for a time in an out-of-the-way village. I knew
enough of men to understand that he might consider it nobody's business
why he cared to live among us. I had enough sense of humor to see that
he might find amusement in enveloping himself in mystery and sparring
with the sly sages of the store and tavern. By right I should have
stood by and watched the little game; I should have encouraged Isaac
Bolum and Henry Holmes to apply the interrogating probe; I should have
warned Weston of the plotting at the store to lay bare the secret of
his life; I should have brought the contending parties together and
enjoyed the duello. Instead, I had to admit to myself a curiosity as
to the stranger's identity that equalled, if it did not surpass, that
of Theophilus Jones. His was curiosity pure and simple; mine was
something more. Weston had come quietly into my own castle, had taken
complete possession of it for a moment, and then calmly walked away
with the fairest thing it held--and all so quietly and with an air that
in a thousand years of practice, I or none other in the valley could
have simulated. The picture was still sharp in my mind as I sat there
smoking and drawing Tim out; for when I had vented my anger on my pipe
that morning I had hurried to the gate to watch my departing visitors
as they swung down the village street. Weston, lanky and erect, moved
with a masterful stride, not unlike the lean and keen-witted setter
that flashed to and fro over the road before him. At his side was the
girl, a slender body in drab, tossing her hat gayly about at the end of
its long string. They passed the store and the mill, and at the bend
were lost to my view. They seemed to find themselves such good
company! Even Tim, so fine and big, had in this homely, lanky man a
rival well worth watching.

And who was the quiet, lanky man? Over and over I asked myself th