lifted as
though he were endeavoring to see something far away over the English
country--something beyond the little groups of Highland cattle and the
great oak trees.

Beside the old woman, on a dark wood frame, there was a fire screen made
of the pennant of a Highland regiment. Beyond her was a table with
a glass top. Under this cover, in a sort of drawer lined with purple
velvet, there were medals, trophies and decorations visible below
the sheet of glass. And on the table, in a heavy metal frame, was
the portrait of a young man in the uniform of a captain of Highland
infantry.

The girl who had been speaking sat in a big armchair by this table.
One knew instantly that she was an American. The liberty of manner,
the independence of expression, could not be mistaken in a country of
established forms. She had abundant brown hair skillfully arranged under
a smart French hat. Her eyes were blue; not the blue of any painted
color; it was the blue of remote spaces in the tropic sky.

The old woman spoke without looking at the girl.

"Then," she said, "it's all quite as"--she hesitated for a
word--"extraordinary as we have been led to believe."

There was the slow accent of Southern blood in the girl's voice as she
went on.

"Lady Mary," she said, "it's all far more extraordinary than you have
been led to believe--than any one could ever have led you to believe. I
deliberately picked the man up. I waited for him outside the Savoy, and
pretended to be uncertain about an address. He volunteered to take me in
his motor and I went with him. I told him I was alone in London, at the
Ritz. It was Blackwell's bank I pretended to be looking for. Then we had
tea."

The girl paused.

Presently she continued: "That's how it began: You're mistaken to
imagine that Sir Henry Marquis presented me to this American. It was the
other way about; I presented Sir Henry. I had the run of the Ritz," she
went on. "We all do if we scatter money. Sir Henry came in to tea the
next afternoon. That's how he met Mr. Meadows. And that's the only place
he ever did meet him. Mr. Meadows came every day, and Sir Henry formed
the habit of dropping in. We got to be a very friendly party."

The motionless old woman, a figure in plaster until now, kneaded her
fingers as under some moving pressure. "At this time," she said, "you
were engaged to Tony and expected to be his wife!"

The girl's voice did not change. It was slow and even. "Yes," she said.