of the woodland paths, and
naturally--whether or no his imagination were in fault--there was nobody
waiting there to be caught.

But if any one had been there, he had unquestionably fled along the
trail. Whitaker in a rage set himself to follow, sticking to the path
partly through instinct, mainly thanks to a spectral twilight
manufactured in the forest by moon-beams filtered thin through
innumerable leaves and branches. Once or twice he paused to listen, then
again plunged on: misled perhaps by the mysterious but inevitable noises
of the nocturnal woodland. Before he realized he could have covered half
the distance, he emerged abruptly into the clearing of the Fiske place.

Here he pulled up, for the first time alive to the intrinsic idiocy of
his conduct, and diverted besides by the discovery that his impression
of the early evening, that the cottage was tenanted, had been well
founded.

The ground floor windows shone with a dim but warm illumination. There
was one quite near him, a long window opening upon the railed veranda,
through which he could see distinctly part of a living-room rather
charmingly furnished in a summery way. At its farther end a dark-haired
woman in a plain black dress with a short apron and lace cap sat reading
by lamplight: evidently a maid. Her mistress--judged by appearances--was
outside on the lawn below the veranda, strolling to and fro in company
with a somewhat short and heavy man who wore an automobile duster and
visored cap. By contrast, her white-clad figure, invested with the
illusion of moonlight, seemed unusually tall. Her hair was fair, shining
like a head-dress of palest gold as she bent her head, attentive to her
companion. And Whitaker thought to discern an unusual quality in her
movements, a quality of charm and a graciousness of mien rarely to be
noticed even in the most beautiful of the women he had known.

Of a sudden the man paused, produced a watch from beneath his duster,
consulted it briefly and shut the case with a snap. He said something in
a brusque tone, and was answered by what sounded like a pleasant
negative. Promptly, as if annoyed, he turned and strode hastily away,
disappearing round the house.

Alone, the woman watched him as long as he was in sight, her head to one
side with an effect of critical amusement. Then with a low laugh she
crossed the veranda and entered the lighted room. At the same time,
Whitaker, lingering and watching without in the least