hat fear. By the way," he added more seriously, "I owe you an account of
my failure to gain any information for you with regard to Mr. Gervase
Henshaw's plans."

"He is not communicative?" Miss Morriston suggested casually.

Gifford shook his head. "No, I am never able to get hold of him. In fact,
it seems as though he rather makes a point of avoiding us. And if we do
meet, he is vagueness and reticence personified."

They were walking slowly back along the shrubbery path. The girl turned
to him for an instant, her expression softened in a look of gratitude.
"It is very kind of you, Mr. Gifford, to take all this trouble for us.
And I am sure it is not your fault that the result is not what you might
wish. It was rather absurd of me to set you the task. But I am none the
less grateful. Please think that, and do not bother about it any more."

"But if the man is likely to annoy you," he urged. "Have you longer any
reason to fear him?"

She turned swiftly. "Fear him? What do you mean?"

"We thought he might be unscrupulous and might make himself
objectionable."

She shrugged. "I dare say it is possible."

"I must confess," he pursued, "I can't quite make the fellow out. Nor his
motive for remaining in the place. Your brother told me he came across
him hanging about in one of your plantations."

He thought the blood left her face for an instant, but otherwise she
showed no sign of discomposure.

"How did he account for his being there?" she asked calmly.

"Unsatisfactorily enough. I forget his actual excuse."

"Was that all?" she demanded coldly.

"I believe so. But it is hardly desirable, as your brother said, to have
the man prowling about the property."

For a moment she was silent. "No," she said as though by an afterthought.

Her manner troubled him. "I hope he is not attempting to annoy you," he
said searchingly.

She looked surprised and, he thought, a little resentful at his question.
"Me?" she returned coldly. "By hanging about in the plantation?"

"If he goes no farther than that--"

"Why should he?" she demanded in the same rather chilling tone.

"I don't know," Gifford replied, set back by her manner. "Except that I
have no high opinion of the fellow. It occurred to me he might possibly
attempt to persecute you."

She glanced round at him curiously with a little disdainful smile. "What
makes you think he would do that?" she returned.

Her attitude was to him not convincing. He felt there