ping to recover his Alpine hat, which was lying near the cross at
the head of the grave, he passed out through the gate before Millicent
was clear of the wall. He made off with long, uneven, but rapid
strides, leaving her hot with annoyance that a mere peasant should
treat her so cavalierly. Though she did not understand all he said,
she grasped its purport. But her soreness soon passed. The great fact
remained that she shared some secret with him and Bower, a secret of
an importance she could not yet measure. She was tempted to go inside
the cemetery, and might have yielded to the impulse had not a load of
snow suddenly tumbled off the broad fronds of a pine. The incident
set her heart beating furiously again. How lonely was this remote
hilltop! Even the glorious sunshine did not relieve its brooding
silence.

Thus it came about that these three people went down into the valley,
each within a short distance of the others, and Spencer saw them all
from the high road, where he was questioning an official of the
federal postoffice as to the method of booking seats in the banquette
of the diligence from Vicosoprano.

That he was bewildered by the procession goes without saying. Where
had they been, and how in the name of wonder could the woman's
presence be accounted for? The polite postmaster must have thought
that the Englishman was very dense that morning. Several times he
explained fully that the two desired seats in the diligence must be
reserved from Chiavenna. As many times did Spencer repeat the
information without in the least seeming to comprehend it. He spoke
with the detached air of a boy in the first form reciting the fifth
proposition in Euclid. At last the postmaster gave it up in despair.

"You see that man there?" he said to a keenly interested policeman
when Spencer strolled away in the direction of the village. "He is of
the most peculiar. He talks German like a parrot. He must be a rich
American. Perhaps he wants to buy a diligence."

"_Wer weiss?_" said the other. "Money makes some folk mad."

And, indeed, through Spencer's brain was running a Bedlamite jingle,
a triolet of which the dominant line was Bower, Stampa, and Millicent
Jaques. The meeting of Bower and Stampa was easy of explanation. After
the guide's story of the previous evening, nothing but Stampa's death
or Bower's flight could prevent it. But the woman from the Wellington
Theater, how had she come to know of their feud? He was almos