nsociable as the sort of
people who occupy cemeteries--except "Harry" Van Warden, and she lived
in New York at the Turf Club.

Harry, according to all local tradition--for he frequently motored out
to Warden Koopf, the Van Warden country-seat--and, according to the
newspapers, was a devil of a fellow and in no sense cold or unsociable.
So far as the Keeps read of him, he was always being arrested for
overspeeding, or breaking his collar-bone out hunting, or losing his
front teeth at polo. This greatly annoyed the proud sisters at Warden
Koopf; not because Harry was arrested or had broken his collar-bone, but
because it dragged the family name into the newspapers.

"If you would only play polo or ride to hounds instead of playing golf,"
sighed Winnie Keep to her husband, "you would meet Harry Van Warden, and
he'd introduce you to his sisters, and then we could break in anywhere."

"If I was to ride to hounds," returned her husband, "the only thing I'd
break would be my neck."

The country-place of the Keeps was completely satisfactory, and for the
purposes of their social comedy the stage-setting was perfect. The
house was one they had rented from a man of charming taste and inflated
fortune; and with it they had taken over his well-disciplined butler,
his pictures, furniture, family silver, and linen. It stood upon an
eminence, was heavily wooded, and surrounded by many gardens; but its
chief attraction was an artificial lake well stocked with trout that lay
directly below the terrace of the house and also in full view from the
road to Albany.

This latter fact caused Winnie Keep much concern. In the neighborhood
were many Italian laborers, and on several nights the fish had tempted
these born poachers to trespass; and more than once, on hot summer
evenings, small boys from Tarrytown and Ossining had broken through the
hedge, and used the lake as a swimming-pool.

"It makes me nervous," complained Winnie. "I don't like the idea of
people prowling around so near the house. And think of those twelve
hundred convicts, not one mile away, in Sing Sing. Most of them are
burglars, and if they ever get out, our house is the very first one
they'll break into."

"I haven't caught anybody in this neighborhood breaking into our house
yet," said Fred, "and I'd be glad to see even a burglar!"

They were seated on the brick terrace that overlooked the lake. It was
just before the dinner hour, and the dusk of a wonderful Octob