ind
Clara waiting for them in the house. But Flora knew it was only Clara's
wonderful way. This uprising and departure were her last.

Now all her waiting was for Kerr's returning. She did not know how she
should face him, but she wanted him. A telegram came an hour before him,
came to Mrs. Herrick announcing him; and then himself, driven up on the
high seat of the cart, just as daylight was closing. She and Mrs.
Herrick had walked half-way out toward the rose garden; and, seeing them
there, he stopped the cart in the drive, leaped down and ran across the
grass. Both hurried to meet him. The three encountered like friends,
like intimates, with hand-clasps and hurried glances searching each
other's faces.

"Did you save it?" Flora asked.

He looked at Mrs. Herrick, hesitating.

"You can tell, she knows," Flora assured him.

"No, I haven't saved it--not so far," he said. He had taken off his hat
and the strong light showed on his face lines of fatigue and anxiety.
"He gave me the slip--no trace of him. No one saw him come into the
city; nothing turned up in the goldsmith's shop. His friend, the
blue-eyed Chinaman, has dropped out of sight. I haven't made it public,"
he glanced at Flora--"but our men think he's gone out by the water
route--Lord knows in what or where! He must have had this planned for
days." He didn't look at Flora now. He turned his communication
carefully on Mrs. Herrick. "There were seven vessels sailed, that day,
and all were searched; but there are ways of smuggling opium, and why
not men?"

They were walking toward the house. Kerr looked up at the window where,
a short time before, Clara's face had looked down upon the confusion in
the garden.

"Is that paid woman still here?"

"Oh, no; she's gone." Flora looked at him warningly. But Mrs. Herrick
had caught his tone. "Why shouldn't she be?" she demanded with delicate
asperity.

Kerr had dropped his monocle. "Because, in common decency, she
couldn't. She sold Cressy to me for a good round sum."

Flora and Mrs. Herrick exchanged a look of horror.

"I'd suspected him," said Kerr. "I knew where I'd seen him, but I
couldn't be sure of his identity till she showed me the picture."

"What picture?" cried Flora.

"The picture Buller mentioned at the club that night: Farrell Wand,
boarding the _Loch Ettive_. Don't you remember?" He spoke gently, as if
afraid that a hasty phrase in such connection might do her harm. Now,
when he saw how white