you were about to give me. But since I could not
use it helping you, you will readily see that I must not listen. I'm
sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," replied the girl. "Thank you very much--for telling
me. Now I must--go forward--alone." She smiled unhappily.

"I'm afraid you must," answered Billy Magee.

On the stairs appeared the slim figure of the other girl. Her great eyes
were wistful, her face was pale. She came toward them through the red
firelight. Mr. Magee saw what a fool he had been to waver in his
allegiance even for a moment. For he loved her, wanted her, surely. The
snow-capped heights are inspiring, but far more companionable is the
brook that sparkles in the valley.

"It's rather dull, isn't it?" asked Miss Norton of the Thornhill girl.
By the side of the taller woman she seemed slight, almost childish.
"Have you seen the pictures of the admiral, Miss Thornhill? Looking at
them is our one diversion."

"I do not care to see them, thank you," Myra Thornhill replied, moving
toward the stairs. "He is a very dear friend of my father." She passed
up and out of sight.

Miss Norton turned away from the fire, and Mr. Magee rose hastily to
follow. He stood close behind her, gazing down at her golden hair
shimmering in the dark.

"I've just been thinking," he said lightly, "what an absolutely
ridiculous figure I must be in your eyes, buzzing round and round like a
bee in a bottle, and getting nowhere at all. Listen--no one has left the
inn. While they stay, there's hope. Am I not to have one more chance--a
chance to prove to you how much I care?"

She turned, and even in the dusk he saw that her eyes were wet.

"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," she whispered. "I'm not angry any
more. I'm just--at sea. I don't know what to think--what to do. Why try
any longer? I think I'll go away--and give up."

"You mustn't do that," urged Magee. They came back into the firelight.
"Miss Thornhill has just informed me that she knows who has the
package!"

"Indeed," said the girl calmly, but her face had flushed.

"I didn't let her tell me, of course."

"Why not?" Oh, how maddening women could be!

"Why not?" Magee's tone was hurt. "Because I couldn't use her
information in getting the money for you."

"You are still 'going to' get the money for me?"

Maddening certainly, as a rough-edged collar.

"Of--" Magee began, but caught himself. No, he would prate no more of
'going to'. "I'll not ask you to believe it," he