girl, who saw his face, and may have guessed what
had brought the anger into his eyes, stopped a moment. It is also probable
that, being a young woman with quick perceptions, she had guessed with
some correctness how far his regard for Hetty went.

"You don't seem pleased to-night," she said.

"No?" said Clavering, with a little laugh which rang hollow. "Well, I
should be. It is quite a while since I had a talk with you."

"Pshaw!" said the girl, who failed to blush, though she wished to,
watching him covertly. "Now, I wonder if what I'm going to tell you will
make you more angry still. Suppose you heard Miss Torrance had been
sending letters to Larry Grant?"

"I don't know that I should believe it," said Clavering, as unconcernedly
as he could.

"Well, she has," the girl said. "What is more, she has been going out to
meet him in the Cedar Bluff."

Clavering's face betrayed him, and for a moment the girl, who saw his lips
set, was almost afraid. He contrived, however, to make a light answer, and
was about to ask a question when a door creaked. The next moment Torrance
came out into the corridor, and Clavering's opportunity vanished with the
maid. Torrance, who had evidently not seen her, kept him talking for a
while.

In the meanwhile, the girl contrived an excuse for entering the room where
she was quite aware Hetty and Clavering had met. She did not find her
mistress, but, as it happened, noticed the writing-case, and, having a
stake in affairs, opened it. Inside she found two sheets of paper, and
after considering the probabilities of detection appropriated one of them
on which was written, "Larry dear."

She had, however, no intention of showing it to Clavering just then, but,
deciding that such a paper might be worth a good many dollars to the
person who knew how to make use of it, she slipped it into her pocket, and
went out into the hall, where she saw him talking to Torrance. As she
watched they shook hands, and Clavering swung himself on to the back of a
horse somebody led up to the door. It was two or three weeks before he
came back again, and was led straight to the room where Torrance and some
of his neighbours were sitting. Clavering took his place among the rest,
and watched the faces that showed amidst the blue cigar-smoke. Some were
intent and eager, a few very grim, but the stamp of care was on all of
them save that of Torrance, who sat immobile and expressionless at the
head of the table. All