lighted by evanescent gleams rose out of the east
wind grayness with shadowy grandeur.

Then Wyllard aroused himself. "I wonder if I ought to write Major
Radcliffe and tell him what my object is before I call," he said. "It
would make the thing a little easier."

The girl rose. "Yes," she assented, "that would, perhaps, be wiser." She
glanced at the photograph which was still in her hand. "It has served
its purpose. I scarcely think it would be of any great interest to Major
Radcliffe."

She saw his face change as she made it evident that she did not mean to
give the portrait back to him. There was, at least, one excellent reason
why she would not have her picture in a strange man's hands.

"Thank you," she said, "for the story. I am glad we have met; but I'm
afraid I have already kept my friends waiting for me."

She turned away, and it occurred to Wyllard that he had made a very
indifferent use of the opportunity, since she had neither asked his name
nor told him hers. It was, however, evident that he could not well run
after her and demand her name, and he decided that he could in all
probability obtain it from Major Radcliffe. Still, he regretted his lack
of adroitness as he walked back to the inn, where he wrote two letters
when he had consulted a map and his landlady. Dufton Holme, he
discovered, was a small village within a mile or two of the Grange
where, as Miss Rawlinson had informed him, Agatha Ismay was then
staying. One letter was addressed to her, and he formally asked
permission to call upon her with a message from George Hawtrey. The
other was to Major Radcliffe, and in both he said that an answer would
reach him at the inn which his landlady had informed him was to be found
not far from both of the houses he intended to visit.

He set out on foot next morning, and, after climbing a steep pass,
followed a winding track across a waste of empty moor until he struck a
smooth white road, which led past a rock-girt lake and into a deep
valley. It was six o'clock in the morning when he started, and three in
the afternoon when he reached the inn, where he found an answer to one
of the letters awaiting him. It was from Major Radcliffe, who desired an
interview with him as soon as possible.

Within an hour he was on his way to the Major's house, where a
gray-haired man, whose yellow skin suggested long exposure to a tropical
sun, and a little withered lady were waiting for him. They received him
graciousl