r. Hilliard."

"You won't----"

"Not while I'm hovering. Not till there's something to light on. I may be
doing an innocent person a big injustice."

And Nick could squeeze no more hints from Max Wisler. Herein lay one
secret of the man's success; he had his own methods, and no one could
persuade or bribe him to depart from them. This caused him to be
respected. And Nick had to leave San Francisco with Mrs. Gaylor and
Angela, tingling with unsatisfied curiosity. Mrs. May had forbidden him to
speak to Carmen of the mysterious box, having grown sensitive on the
subject. More than once she had asked herself if it were possible that
some one very, very far away--some one whose photograph was in the
_Illustrated London News_--hated her enough to do her an injury: some one
she had believed to be completely indifferent in these days. The thing
savoured of the Latin mind, she could not help thinking, rather than the
Anglo-Saxon. Perhaps Princess di Sereno was not quite forgotten in Italy,
after all. And Mrs. May could imagine a motive, for in San Francisco she
had been able to find a duplicate of that illustrated paper. There were
three photographs in it: one rather bad one of herself, taken years ago in
Rome; one of Paolo, dressed as an aeronaut; and one of a certain handsome
young woman, very becomingly dressed to accompany the Prince for a flight
in his new aeroplane.

Angela was not happy in this expedition to the Gaylor ranch, though she
reassured herself from time to time, by saying that it was better to
accept than refuse the invitation; and she was to be Mrs. Gaylor's guest
only for a day, part of another, and one night. Still, she was vaguely
troubled. The warm consciousness of being surrounded by kindness which had
made the California sunshine doubly bright, was chilled. This visit would
be like other visits which she had made in the past, before she was "Mrs.
May, whom nobody knows." In Rome, in Paris, in London, Princess di Sereno
had been obliged sometimes to go to houses of women whom she disliked or
distrusted, and to have them in hers. Such obligations had been part of
the inevitable disagreeableness of daily existence for the wife of Paolo
di Sereno; but going to Mrs. Gaylor was the first false note in the music
of this free, new world. Angela consoled herself by thinking of Lucky Star
Ranch. She would like to see Nick Hilliard's home.

* * * * *

"Simeon, she's here," said