should recognize her," he
declared, a note of resentment now proclaiming itself in his voice.

"And they were?"

Mr. Hines leaned forward, tapping me on the knee confidentially.

"I met her by accident, you understand," he confided, "on the London
Road one evening about sunset set. She asked me the way to Friar's
Park and I could see that I had made an impression at once. It was
just an excuse to speak to me of course. I offered to walk that far
with her; she agreed, and to cut a long story short--the usual thing,
of course; she wanted to meet me again.

"Well," he resumed complacently, "I met her on the following Thursday
and we became very good friends, you understand, except that she
always seemed particularly anxious to return home before dusk. All
this time I never knew who she was, or even where she lived, but of
course I could see how the land lay. She was some lady from London
staying at one of the big houses about here and had to show up for
dinner. That night when we parted she gave me this little gold thing
and arranged to see me again."

He paused, knocking ash from his cigar and seemingly reflecting as to
how he should word his next communication; but finally:

"The third time I saw her," he said, "I managed to arrange that she
could not get in quite so early, you understand; and then--I don't
know exactly how to tell you. I am not a chap that gets in a panic
very easily; but (I may mention that the scene took place in a wood)
she gave me the biggest scare I have ever had in my life."

He bent forward and again tapped me on the knee.

"My dear--Mr. Addison, I think you said your name was?--her eyes
lighted up in the dark like a cat's!"

He stared at me with some return of his old truculence as if
anticipating ridicule and prepared to resent it, but I nodded sternly,
watching him as if enthralled by his narrative, whereupon:

"Yes--like a cat's!" he repeated; "and I'll admit I got in a panic. I
don't know if she thought from the way I yelled that I was going to
attack her or what, but the next thing I knew she was at my throat."

He uttered a sort of choking sound, tenderly touched the bandages
about his neck and fingered the plaster which ornamented his face.

"At your throat?" said I. "You mean she tried to throttle you?"

"Throttle me!" he exclaimed scornfully. "She seized me with her
_teeth_!"

"But," I said, and hesitated, for I feared I might wound his curious
susceptibility--"the dam