understanding or
even questioning why he was doing this thing so contrary to his
instincts, heard the heavy rumble of a motor-car on the far side of the
house and saw the machine swing off across the clearing and into the
woods.

In the living-room the woman was saying: "You may go now, Elise. I'll be
ready for bed before long."

"Yes, madam." The maid rose and moved briskly out of sight.

Her mistress, casting aside a scarf of embroidered Chinese brocade,
moved about the room with an air at once languid and distrait. Pausing
beside a table, she took up a book, opened it, shut it smartly,
discarding it as if hopeless of finding therein any sort of diversion.
She stood for a moment in deep thought, her head bowed, the knuckle of a
slender forefinger tapping her chin--charmingly posed. Whitaker abruptly
understood why it was he loitered, peeping: she was absolutely
beautiful, a creature both exquisite and superb, a matchless portrait
for the galleries of his memory.

With a sigh and a quick movement of impatience, seating herself at a
cottage piano she ran her fingers over the keys. Whitaker recognized the
opening bars of something or other of Beethoven's--he couldn't say
precisely what, at the instant; and even as he tried a thing happened
which drove the music altogether from his mind: in short, he discovered
that he was not the only watcher below the window.

Something--a movement or perhaps a slight sound--had drawn his attention
from the woman. He saw the other man standing boldly in full moonlight,
all his attention concentrated on the brilliant picture framed by the
window. He was unquestionably without knowledge of the nearness of the
other--of Whitaker in the shadows. And though his back was to the moon
and his face further shadowed by a peaked cap, Whitaker was absolutely
sure of the man: he was certainly Drummond.

Without pause for thought he sprang toward him, in a guarded voice
uttering his name--"Drummond!" But the fellow proved too alert and quick
for him. Whitaker's hands closed on nothing more substantial than thin
air; at the same time he received a blow upon his bruised shoulder smart
and forcible enough to stagger him and evoke an involuntary grunt of
pain. And before he could regain his balance the fellow was thrashing
noisily away through the woodland underbrush.

Involuntarily Whitaker glanced through the window to see if the woman
had been alarmed. But apparently a succession of sonorous