tering certainty
that it seemed she must have been there before. Perhaps she had arrived
while the mistress of the house was out, and had been walking about the
place, to pass away the time.

"But she hasn't come to see me," the girl in the hammock thought. "She
has come to see Knight. It's for him she is waiting."

Anger stirred in Annesley's heart, anger against Knight as well as
against Madalena.

"Has _he_ written and told her to come?" she asked herself. "Does she
think she can stay in this house? No, she shall not! I won't have her
here!"

She was half-minded to rise abruptly and surprise the Countess, as the
Countess had surprised her; to ask why she had come, and to show that she
was not welcome. But if Madalena were here at Knight's invitation she
would stay. There would be a scene perhaps. The thought was revolting.
Annesley lay still; and in the distance she heard the throbbing of a
motor.

CHAPTER XXV

THE ALLEGORY

Annesley knew that Knight was in the habit of coming home that way, in
order not to disturb her with the noise of the car if she had gone to
bed. If he were bringing parcels from the little mining town, he drove to
the house, left the packets, and ran the auto to a shanty he had rigged
up for a garage.

A few seconds later the small open car came into sight, and Madalena
sprang up, waving a dark veil she had snatched off her hat. She feared,
no doubt, that the man might take another direction and perhaps get into
the house by some door she did not know before she could intercept him.
From a little distance the tall figure standing on the veranda steps must
have been silhouetted black against the white wall of the house, clearly
to be seen from the advancing motor.

Quick as a bird in flight the car sped along the road, wheeled on to the
stiff grass, and drew up close to the veranda steps.

"Good heavens, Madalena!" Annesley heard her husband exclaim. "I thought
it was my wife, and that something had gone wrong."

The surprise sharpening his tone did away with the doubt in the mind of
the hidden listener. She had said to herself that the woman was here by
appointment, and that this hour had been chosen because the meeting was
to be secret.

"I wanted you to think so, and to come straight to this place," returned
the once familiar voice. "Don, I've travelled from San Francisco to see
you. Do say you are glad!"

"I can't," the man answered. "I'm not glad. You tried to ruin