"I attach importance to many things that other people overlook. That's
my artfulness. I don't suppose it has occurred to you that tramps follow
the railroads, and that Long Island is free of the vermin for the simple
reason that the Long Island Railroad doesn't lead anywhere any
self-respecting tramp would care to go?"

"It's true--I hadn't thought of that. So that makes the appearance of a
tramp in these parts a cir-spicious sus-cumstance?"

"It does. Now tell me about him--everything."

So the truth would out, after all. Whitaker resignedly delivered himself
of the tale of the mare's-nest--as he still regarded it. When he had
come to the lame conclusion thereof, Ember yawned and rose.

"What are you going to do about it?" Whitaker inquired with irony.

"Wash and make myself fit to eat food," was the response. "I may
possibly think a little. It's an exhilarating exercise which I don't
hesitate to recommend to your distinguished consideration."

He was out of earshot, within the bungalow, before Whitaker could think
up an adequately insolent retort. He could, however, do no less than
smile incredulously at the beautiful world: so much, at least, he owed
his self-respect.

He lolled comfortably, dreaming, forgetful of his cold-storage foot,
serene in the assurance that Ember was an alarmist, Drummond (if alive)
to a degree hand-bound by his own misconduct, a wretched creature
self-doomed to haunt the under-world, little potent either for good or
for evil; while it was a certainty, Whitaker believed, that to-morrow's
sun would find him able to be up and about--able to hobble, even if with
difficulty, at least as much as the eighth of a mile.

Long shadows darkened athwart the clearing. The bay was quick with
moving water, its wonderful deep blue shading to violet in the distant
reaches. Beyond the golden arm of the barrier beach drifted the lazy
purple sails of coastwise schooners. Gradually these blushed red, the
golden arm took on a ruddy tinge, the bosom of the waters a translucent
pink, mirroring the vast conflagration in the western skies.

Somewhere--not far away--a whippoorwill whistled with plaintive
insistence.

In the deepening twilight a mental shadow came to cloud the brightness
of Whitaker's confident contentment. He sat brooding and mumbling curses
on the ache in his frost-bitten foot, and was more than slightly
relieved when Sum Fat lighted the candles in the living-room and
summoned Ember to h