"You think yourself cursedly clever," and it was an effort for
Masterson to keep from striking the cool, insolent face. "You thought
so today when Madame Caron was suspected instead of yourself."

"Madame Caron!" Monroe ceased the whistle and looked at him with a
momentary frown, which Masterson welcomed as a sign of anger.

"Ah, that touches you, does it?"

"Only with wonder that you dare speak of her after your failure to
make her the victim of your spies today," and Monroe's tone was again
only contemptuous. "First you arrest me, then accuse Madame Caron.
Evidently you are out of your sphere in detective work; it really
requires considerable cleverness, you know. Yet, if it amuses
you--well"--he made a little gesture of indifference and turned away,
but Masterson stepped before him.

"You will learn there is enough cleverness here to comprehend why you
came to this plantation a willing prisoner," he said, threateningly.
Monroe resumed his _"Rally Once Again,"_ and raised his brows
inquiringly, "and also why you ignored a former acquaintance with
Madame Caron and had to be introduced. Before you are through with
this business, Captain Monroe, you'll whistle a different tune."

"Oh, no, I shan't; I don't know any other," said Monroe, amiably, and
sauntered away as some of the guests, with gay good nights, came down
the steps. The evening, delightful as it had been, fraught with
emotion as it had been, was passing. The late hour reminded Monroe
that he must no longer delay seeing Pluto if he was to see him at all.
They had exchanged glances several times, but the black man's duties
had kept him occupied every minute, and they had found no opportunity
to speak unobserved.

Judithe stood beside Mrs. McVeigh on the veranda exchanging good
nights with some of the people, who expected to be her neighbors in
the near future, and who were delighted with the prospect. She had
been a decided success with the warm-hearted Southerners, and had
entered the rooms a short time after her interview with her host, so
gay, so bright, that he could scarcely believe those brilliant eyes
were the ones he had seen tear-wet in the dusk. She had not avoided
him, but she had made a tete-a-tete impossible; for all that he could
only remember the moment when she had leaned upon his breast and
confessed that the love was not all on his side; no after attempt at
indifference could erase an iota of that!

Monroe stopped to look at her, himse