father about
it." Mrs. March gave him a glance of silent contempt, and he hastened to
atone for his stupidity. "Perhaps she's told him on the instalment plan.
She may have begun by confessing that Burnamy had been in Carlsbad. Poor
old fellow, I wish we were going to find him in Ansbach! He could make
things very smooth for us."

"Well, you needn't flatter yourself that you'll find him in Ansbach. I'm
sure I don't know where he is."

"You might write to Miss Triscoe and ask."

"I think I shall wait for Miss Triscoe to write to me," she said, with
dignity.

"Yes, she certainly owes you that much, after all your suffering for her.
I've asked the banker in Nuremberg to forward our letters to the poste
restante in Ansbach. Isn't it good to see the crows again, after those
ravens around Carlsbad?"

She joined him in looking at the mild autumnal landscape through the open
window. The afternoon was fair and warm, and in the level fields bodies
of soldiers were at work with picks and spades, getting the ground ready
for the military manoeuvres; they disturbed among the stubble foraging
parties of crows, which rose from time to time with cries of indignant
protest. She said, with a smile for the crows, "Yes. And I'm thankful
that I've got nothing on my conscience, whatever happens," she added in
dismissal of the subject of Burnamy.

"I'm thankful too, my dear. I'd much rather have things on my own. I'm
more used to that, and I believe I feel less remorse than when you're to
blame."

They might have been carried near this point by those telepathic
influences which have as yet been so imperfectly studied. It was only
that morning, after the lapse of a week since Burnamy's furtive
reappearance in Carlsbad, that Miss Triscoe spoke to her father about it,
and she had at that moment a longing for support and counsel that might
well have made its mystical appeal to Mrs. March.

She spoke at last because she could put it off no longer, rather than
because the right time had come. She began as they sat at breakfast.
"Papa, there is something that I have got to tell you. It is something
that you ought to know; but I have put off telling you because--"

She hesitated for the reason, and "Well!" said her father, looking up at
her from his second cup of coffee. "What is it?"

Then she answered, "Mr. Burnamy has been here."

"In Carlsbad? When was he here?"

"The night of the Emperor's birthday. He came into the box when you w