fancied, though, as in the case of her recent trip to Albany,
she might have been spirited away.

"Absurd!" said Eugene easily, defiantly, indifferently. "I'll not do
anything of the sort. In the first place, I don't believe you. If you
are so anxious to be nice to me, let me see her, and then you can say
all this in front of her. I've come up here to see her, and I'm going
to. She's here. I know she is. You needn't lie. You needn't talk. I know
she's here. Now I'm going to see her, if I have to stay here a month and
search."

Mrs. Dale stirred nervously. She knew that Eugene was desperate. She
knew that Suzanne had written to him. Talk might be useless. Strategy
might not avail, but she could not help using it.

"Listen to me," she said excitedly. "I tell you Suzanne is not here.
She's gone. There are guards up there--lots of them. They know who you
are. They have your description. They have orders to kill you, if you
try to break in. Kinroy is there. He is desperate. I have been having a
struggle to prevent his killing you already. The place is watched. We
are watched at this moment. Won't you be reasonable? You can't see her.
She's gone. Why make all this fuss? Why take your life in your hands?"

"Don't talk," said Eugene. "You're lying. I can see it in your face.
Besides, my life is nothing. I am not afraid. Why talk? She's here. I'm
going to see her."

He stared before him and Mrs. Dale ruminated as to what she was to do.
There were no guards or detectives, as she said. Kinroy was not there.
Suzanne was not away. This was all palaver, as Eugene suspected, for she
was too anxious to avoid publicity to give any grounds for it, before
she was absolutely driven.

It was a rather halcyon evening after some days of exceeding chill. A
bright moon was coming up in the east, already discernible in the
twilight, but which later would shine brilliantly. It was not cold but
really pleasantly warm, and the rough road along which they were driving
was richly odorous. Eugene was not unconscious of its beauty, but
depressed by the possibility of Suzanne's absence.

"Oh, do be generous," pleaded Mrs. Dale, who feared that once they saw
each other, reason would disappear. Suzanne would demand, as she had
been continually demanding, to be taken back to New York. Eugene with or
without Suzanne's consent or plea, would ignore her overtures of
compromise and there would be immediate departure or defiant union here.
She thought