his objectionable excess of politeness at
their meeting that morning. Happily, however, Gifford felt secure in his
position as her accredited ally and in her expressed dislike to the man
whom it seemed she had unwittingly fascinated. It was indeed unthinkable
that this splendid, high-bred girl could ever be responsive to the
advances of this unpleasantly sharp, rather underbred man, and he was a
little surprised that she could respond to his remarks quite so
genially, with more graciousness indeed than even her position as
hostess called forth.

He could not quite reconcile it with the way she had spoken of him
previously; but then he told himself that he was making too much of the
business, and saw what was mere politeness through the magnifying glasses
of jealousy. And so, secure in his position, he proceeded to view
Henshaw's attempts to ingratiate himself with an amused equanimity.

CHAPTER XIII

WHAT GIFFORD SAW IN THE WOOD

During the next day or two Gifford saw next to nothing of Gervase
Henshaw. They had parted amicably enough after luncheon at Wynford Place;
indeed, the change in Henshaw's demeanour had been something of a puzzle
to the two friends, although Kelson did not seem much exercised by it.
"The fellow has evidently come to the conclusion that in dealing with
people like the Morristons an offensive brow-beating manner does not
pay," he remarked casually. Gifford, however, had an idea that the reason
for the change lay somewhat deeper than that. He wondered whether in the
absence of any other apparent cause, Edith Morriston's attractiveness had
had anything to do with it. It was not a pleasant idea; still, if it
saved her annoyance that would be something gained, he thought; and that
it should have any farther result was out of the question.

He had not had that day an opportunity of any private talk with Miss
Morriston, for she had driven out after luncheon to pay a call. But a
certain suggestion of warmth in her leave-taking had assured him that she
still looked for his help and that the conditions were not changed.

What he had undertaken so eagerly was now, however, not easy of
accomplishment. For reasons at which Gifford could only guess, Henshaw
seemed to be playing an elusive game; he kept out of sight, or, at any
rate, avoided all intercourse with the two friends, and on the rare
occasions when they met he was to Gifford tantalizingly uncommunicative.
That something was evidently b