with Nick that morning, and it did not take
much to tire her. Lady Bassett had gone to a polo-match, she knew, and
she luxuriated in undisturbed solitude. It lay all about her like
a spell of enchantment. With her cheek pillowed on her hand she
presently floated into serene slumber. It was like drifting down a
tidal river into a summer sea....

Her awakening was abrupt, almost startling. She felt as if some
one had touched her, though she realised In a moment that this was
impossible; for she was still alone. No one was in sight. Only from
the arbour a few feet away there came the sound of voices, and the
tinkle of tea-cups.

Visitors evidently! Lady Bassett had returned and brought back a
couple of guests with her. She frowned impatiently over the discovery,
realising that she was a prisoner unless she elected to show herself.
For her corner behind the summer-house was bounded by the wall of the
compound, and there was no retreat save by the path that led to the
bungalow, and this wound in front of the arbour itself.

It was very annoying, but there was no help for it. She knew very
few people in Simla, and neither of the voices that mingled with Lady
Bassett's was familiar to her. It did not take her long to decide that
she had no desire for a closer acquaintance with their owners. One
was a man's voice, sonorous and weighty, that sounded as if it were
accustomed to propound mighty problems from the pulpit. The other was
a woman's, high-pitched as the wail of a cat on a windy night, that
caused the listening girl to nestle back on her pillow with the
instant resolution to remain where she was until the intruders saw fit
to depart, even if by so doing she had to forego her tea.

She opened her book with an unwarrantable feeling of resentment. Of
course Lady Bassett could not know she was there, and of course she
was at liberty to go whither she would in her own garden. But no one
likes to have their cherished privacy invaded even in ignorance.
And Lady Bassett might surely have concluded that she would be out
somewhere under the pines.

Well, they probably would not stay for long, and she was in no hurry.
With a faint sigh of lingering annoyance she began to read.

But the piercing, feline voice soon pounded flail-like into her
consciousness, scattering her thoughts with ruthless insistence.

"Of course," it asserted, "it was the only thing he could possibly do.
No man with any decent feeling could have done o