erest in Sandy McTrigger; the mysterious relationship that must
surely exist between her and Inspector Kedsty; and, chiefly, her real
motive in coming to him when she knew that he was dying. He comforted
himself by the assurance that he would have learned these things had
she not left him so suddenly. He had not expected that.

The question which seated itself most insistently in his mind was, why
had she come? Was it, after all, merely a matter of curiosity? Was her
relationship to Sandy McTrigger such that inquisitiveness alone had
brought her to see the man who had saved him? Surely she had not been
urged by a sense of gratitude, for in no way had she given expression
to that. On his death-bed she had almost made fun of him. And she could
not have come as a messenger from McTrigger, or she would have left her
message. For the first time he began to doubt that she knew the man at
all, in spite of the strange thing that had happened under O'Connor's
eyes. But she must know Kedsty. She had made no answer to his
half-accusation that she was hiding up at the Inspector's bungalow. He
had used that word--"hiding." It should have had an effect. And she was
as beautifully unconscious of it as though she had not heard him, and
he knew that she had heard him very distinctly. It was then that she
had given him that splendid view of her amazingly long lashes and had
countered softly,

"What if you shouldn't die?"

Kent felt himself suddenly aglow with an irresistible appreciation of
the genius of her subtlety, and with that appreciation came a thrill of
deeper understanding. He believed that he knew why she had left him so
suddenly. It was because she had seen herself close to the danger-line.
There were things which she did not want him to know or question her
about, and his daring intimation that she was hiding in Kedsty's
bungalow had warned her. Was it possible that Kedsty himself had sent
her for some reason which he could not even guess at? Positively it was
not because of McTrigger, the man he had saved. At least she would have
thanked him in some way. She would not have appeared quite so adorably
cold-blooded, quite so sweetly unconscious of the fact that he was
dying. If McTrigger's freedom had meant anything to her, she could not
have done less than reveal to him a bit of sympathy. And her greatest
compliment, if he excepted the kiss, was that she had called him a
splendid liar!

Kent grimaced and drew in a deep bre