en-brown, soaking grass one or two pioneer grackle were walking
busily about; and somewhere in a near tree the first robin chirked and
chirped and fussed in its loud and familiar fashion, only partly pleased
to find himself in the gray thaw of the scarcely comfortable North once
more.

Portlaw looked up dully: "Those robins come up here and fatten on our
fruit, and a fool law forbids us to shoot 'em. Robin pie," he added, "is
not to be despised, but a sentimental legislature is the limit....
Sentiment always did bore me.... How do you feel after your luncheon?"

"All right," said Hamil, smiling. "I'd like to start out as soon as
Malcourt comes back."

"Oh, don't begin that sort of thing the moment you get here!" protested
Portlaw. "My heavens, man! there's no hurry. Can't you smoke a cigar and
play a card or two--"

"You know I've other commissions--"

"Oh, of course; but I hoped you'd have time to take it easy. I've
looked forward to having you here--so has Malcourt; he thinks you're
about right, you know. And he makes damn few friends among men--"

The door opened and Malcourt entered slowly, almost noiselessly. There
was not a vestige of colour in his face, nor of expression as he crossed
the room for a match and relighted his cigarette.

"Well?" inquired Portlaw, "did you get Cardross on the wire?"

"Yes."

Malcourt stood motionless, hands in his pockets, the cigarette smoke
curling up blue in the sunshine.

"I've got to go," he said.

"What for?" demanded Portlaw, then sulkily begged pardon and pouted his
dissatisfaction in silence.

"When do you go, Malcourt?" asked Hamil, still wondering.

"Now." He lifted his head but looked across at Portlaw. "I've telephoned
the stable, and called up Pride's Fall to flag the five-thirty express,"
he said.

Portlaw was growing madder and madder.

"Would you mind telling me when you expect to be back?" he inquired
ill-temperedly.

"I don't know yet."

"Don't know!" burst out Portlaw; "hell's bells!"

Malcourt shook his head.

Portlaw profanely requested information as to how the place was to be
kept going. Malcourt was patient with him to the verge of indifference.

"There's nothing to blow up about. Hastings is competent to manage
things--"

"That conceited pup!"

"Hastings understands," repeated Malcourt, in a listless voice. "I've
always counted on Alexander Hastings for any emergency. He knows things,
and he's capable.... Only don't be brusque.