with this
special mission of his, and it is quite possible that he has asked her
to go to Washington--insisted upon it--appealing to her love of
Austria. I confess I don't see what she can accomplish there, for she
never did have any Washington connections--of course she could get
letters from Trent and trust to her personal power and prestige. But
let me tell you that she didn't do it to please him. She looked as if
she hated him."

"Is he still in love with her? Are you sure he didn't come here to ask
her to marry him?"

"If he did he had his journey for his pains--although I can see that it
would be a highly desirable combination from his point of view. But
he's not in love with her. I'll stake all I know of men on that."

"You are sure?"

"As sure as that I'm alive."

"Well, I take the morning train for New York."

"Lee," said Mr. Dinwiddie impressively, "take the advice of an old man,
who has seen a good deal of men and women in his day, and stay where
you are until you hear from Mary. Some sort of crisis has arisen, no
use blinking the fact, but if you burst in on her now, while she is
Madame Zattiany, encased in a new set of triple-plated armor, you may
ruin all your chances of happiness. Whatever it is let her work it
out--and off--by herself. I made her promise she would not leave the
country without seeing you again--for I didn't know what might be in
the wind--and when she had given her word she added that she had not
the least intention of not seeing you again, and that it was quite
possible she would return to the camp. If you go down you'll spoil
everything."

"I suppose I can trust you, Din, but I've seen plainly that you don't
want me to marry her."

"That is true enough. I want nothing less--for your sake; and
Hohenhauer would be a far more suitable match for her. But I don't
believe you even question my faith----"

"No. I don't. You're a brick, Din. But I'm unspeakably
worried--almost terrified. I have never felt that I really knew her.
She may have only imagined--but that is impossible! How in God's name
am I to sit round here for three days and twiddle my thumbs?"

"Don't. Take one of the men and go off on a three days' tramp. Climb
Mount Moose. That will give you no chance to think. All your thinking
will be in your muscles."

"And suppose she should return--or telegraph me to go to her?"

"If she returns and finds you gone it'll serve her right. And she
won't