o his nature.

So much Agatha could guess at, and for the rest, instinct taught her to
be kind. But she was not willing now to take him quite so seriously as
he seemed to be taking himself. She couldn't resist teasing him a bit,
by saying, "Nevertheless, Mr. Hand, you did hide behind me; you had to."

He did not reply to her bantering smile, but, in the pause that
followed, stepped to the bookcase where she had been standing, gingerly
picked up a soft bit of linen and lace from the floor and dropped it
into her lap. Then he faced her in an attitude of pugnacious
irritation. For a brief moment his silence fell from him.

"I didn't have to," he contradicted. "I let it go because I thought
you were a good sport, and you wouldn't catch me backing out of your
game, not by a good deal! But there's a darned sight,--pardon me,
Mademoiselle!--there's too much company round here to suit me! _You_
know me, _you_ know you can trust me, Mademoiselle! But what about
Tom, Dick and Harry all over this place--casting eyes at a man?"

Agatha, almost against her will, was forced to meet his seriousness
half-way. "I don't know what you mean," she said.

"Tell 'em!" he burst out. "Tell 'em the whole story. Tell that blamed
snoopin' manager that I'm a crook and a kidnapper, and then he'll stop
nosing round after me. I'll have an hour's start, and that's all I
want. Dogging a man--running him down under his own automobile!" Hand
permitted himself a dry smile at his own joke, but immediately added,
"It goes against the grain, Mademoiselle!"

Agatha's face brightened, as she grasped the clue to Hand's wrath.
"I've no doubt," she answered gravely. She knew the manager. "But why
should I tell him, as you suggest?"

"Why?" Hand stopped a moment, as if baffled at the difficulty of
putting such obvious philosophy into words. "Why? Because that's the
way people are--never satisfied till they uncover and root up every
blamed thing in a man's life. Yes, Mademoiselle, you know it's true.
They'll always be uneasy with me around."

Agatha was aware that when a man utters what he considers to be a
general truth, it is useless to enter the field of argument.

"Suppose you do have 'an hour's start,' as you express it. Where would
you go?"

"Oh, I'll look about for a while. After that I'm going to Mr.
Hambleton in Lynn. He's going to have a new car."

"Ah!" Agatha suddenly saw light. "Then there's only one thing. Mr.
Ham