ng a long black
coat. Was it the priest he had noticed that morning at the door of the
Catholic church in the village? Yes, there was no doubt about that; it
was the priest. He had just lifted his hat to the lady and was now
turning to walk back with her by the way he had come. They evidently
knew each other well; and the man watching them almost laughed at
himself when he realized that he was slightly piqued at the clergyman's
daring to know her while he did not. He watched the pair until they
disappeared around the bend of the bluff path. Then he settled back to
look for his cigar. But he did not find it, for other matters quickly
absorbed his attention.

From out a clump of bushes on his left, where they evidently had been
hiding, two men appeared. He recognized them both. One was a book
agent who was stopping at the hotel in the village; the other was the
local constable. The book agent had a paper in his hand.

"That her?" he asked.

"Yaas, sir!"--the constable was surely a native New Englander--"I seed
her face plain."

"I didn't," said the agent, with annoyance. "I have never seen her
without that confounded veil. This is the first time she's had it
thrown back. But the description is right? Look at it."

He showed the paper to the constable, tapping it as he read.

"'Brown hair, blue eyes'--did you see her eyes?"

"I sure did," answered the constable; "and they wuz blue."

"All right, then. 'Blue eyes, regular features'--how about that?"

"Reg'lar enough," said the constable. "She'd no pug nose, I kin tell
ya that."

"'Regular features,' then, is right. 'Five feet four inches
tall'--that's right. 'Small hands and feet'--that's right. 'About
twenty-three years old; good figure.'"

"She sure hez all them," vouchsafed the wearer of the star. "I knowed
her right away, and I've seed her often. She's been in Sihasset well
nigh on a month."

"But where--" the agent turned to look at the unbroken wall--"where in
thunder did she come from?"

The constable, pushing back his helmet, scratched his head.

"Damfino," he said. "That's the rub. There's no gate on this side of
Killimaga."

"Killimaga?"

"A rich old Irishman built it and put a wall around it, too. We folks
of Sihasset don't like that; it shuts off the view of the house and
lawn. Lawn's what makes things purty. He wuz a queer old mug--wanted
to shut hisself up."

"But how did she get out?" insisted the agent, coming