al inquiry. He looked at the maid as if for inspiration, but she
stood meekly still, the picture of bashful confusion.

"I'm quite sorry, Miss Torrance," he said. "The concerned thing went
over."

Hetty laughed. "Well," she said, "it's a very cold night, and Lou can get
you some more supper. She is, however, not to stay here a minute after she
has given it you."

She went out with Miss Schuyler, and the two stood very silent by a window
in the corridor. One of them fancied she saw a shadowy object slip round
the corner of a barn, but could not be sure, and for five very long
minutes they stared at the faintly shining snow. Nothing moved upon it,
and save for the maid's voice in the hall, the great building was very
still. Hetty touched Miss Schuyler's arm.

"He has got away," she said. "Come back with me. I don't feel like
standing up any longer."

They sat down limply when they returned to the little room, and though
Miss Schuyler did not meet her companion's gaze, there was something that
did not seem to please the latter in her face.

"Flo," she said, "one could almost fancy you felt it as much as I did. It
was awfully nice of you."

Miss Schuyler smiled, though there was a tension in her voice. "Of course
I felt it," she said. "Hetty, I'd watch that maid of yours. She's too
clever."

Hetty said nothing for a moment, then, suddenly crossing the room, she
stooped down and kissed Miss Schuyler.

"I have never met any one who would do as much for me as you would, Flo,"
she said. "I don't think there is anything that could come between us."

There was silence for another moment, and during it Miss Schuyler looked
steadily into Hetty's eyes. "No," she said, "although you do not seem
quite sure, I don't think there is."

It was early the next morning when Christopher Allonby arrived at the
Range. He smiled as he glanced at the packet Hetty handed him.

"I have never seen your father anything but precise," he said.

"Has anything led you to fancy that he has changed?" asked Hetty.

Allonby laughed as he held out the packet. "The envelope is all creased
and crumpled. It might have been carried round for ever so long in
somebody's pocket. Now, I know you don't smoke, Hetty."

"There is no reason why I should not, but, as it happens, I don't," said
Miss Torrance.

"Then, the packet has a most curious, cigar-like smell," said Allonby,
smiling. "Now, I don't think Mr. Torrance carries loose cigars and letters