wn question. "I hear the voice of my father's
country."

And then her thoughts returned to Nick.

"I wonder what _he_ is doing now--whether I made him see the error of his
ways?" she asked herself, stroking Timmy, lent by Kate. And she was not
sorry for the forest creature: not sorry at all. It was stupid even to
think of him. But in her lap, a splendid plaything for the black cat, was
the gold bag. It seemed associated with Mr. Hilliard now. Odd, how
different it looked since she had got it back! Bigger, somehow, though, of
course, it was the same. There couldn't have been a mistake. Almost
mechanically she began to count the jewels set along the mouth of the bag.
Fifteen sapphires--fifteen diamonds. Why, there had been only twenty-eight
altogether! She was sure of that. She had counted them before, in
absent-minded moments. What could this mean? Suddenly an explanation of
what it might mean flashed into her head. The theory seemed too
elaborate--yet it would account for the mystery Hilliard had made of the
whole matter, and his anxiety that she should not interview the police, or
come into contact with them. And the five hundred dollars--more money than
ought to have been in the bag. She recalled now having mentioned that sum
in telling of her loss. And the forest creature had said that he "knew
exactly what her bag was like." If he had found a duplicate, and palmed it
off upon her, the absence of the check-book and the presence of the money
without the purse would be explained. But could he have found a bag,
ready-made, so like the lost one as to deceive her until now? She must
question him at once. Yet, with her finger on the bell, ready to summon
the porter, she paused. Only half an hour ago she had forbidden Mr.
Hilliard to come near her. Now she was about to send for him. This would
appear to be a triumph for the enemy. "But I'll soon show him it _isn't_ a
triumph," she thought, and pushed the electric button.

"In the car between this and the dining-car, there's a Mr. Hilliard," she
announced when the porter arrived. "Please ask him to come and speak to
Mrs. May."

"Yes, miss, I'll tell the gen'leman with pleasure," replied the elderly
negro, trotting off to cry aloud a name more or less resembling Hilliard.

Nick, not daring to hope that luck might change so soon, had drifted into
the observation car; but a man answered to the call, beckoning the porter.

"Sure you understood the name right, George?" he in