again, for though
she had said that she knew of the contents of the packing-case, yet,
if that were really so, how was it conceivable that she should speak of
such a thing so calmly?

And yet again, if she could do it, perhaps also she could talk of it
without emotion. Once more there was fear in his eyes as he watched her,
and her own were troubled and doubtful.

"Why do you have all that hair on your face?" she asked.

"Well, why shouldn't I?" he retorted. "It saves trouble."

"Does it?" she said. "Do you know what it looks like--like a disguise?"

"A disguise?" he repeated. "Why should I want a disguise?"

"Do you think I'm quite a fool because I'm a woman?" she asked
impatiently. "Do you suppose I couldn't see very well when you came that
night that you were not an ordinary burglar? You had some reason of your
own for breaking into this house. What was it?"

"I'll tell you," he answered, "if you'll tell me truly what was in that
packing-case?"

"Oh, now I understand," she cried excitedly. "It was to find that out
you came--and then Mr. Dawson made you help us get it away. That was
splendid."

He did not speak, for once more a kind of horror held him dumb, as it
seemed to him that she really--knew.

She saw the mingled horror and bewilderment in his eyes, and she laughed
lightly as though that amused her.

"Do you know," she said, "I believe I guessed as much from the first,
but I'm afraid Mr. Dawson was too clever for you--as he is for most
people. Only then," she added, wrinkling her brows as though a new point
puzzled her, "why are you staying here like this?"

"Can't you guess that too?" he asked hoarsely.

"No," she said, shaking her head with a frankly puzzled air. "No, I
can't. That's puzzled me all the time. Do you know--I think you ought to
shave?"

"Why?"

"A beard makes a good disguise," she answered, "so good it's hardly fair
for you to have it when I can't."

"Perhaps you need it less," he answered bitterly, "or perhaps no
disguise could be so effective as the one you have already."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Bright eyes, a pretty face, a clear complexion," he answered.

He spoke with an extreme energy and bitterness that she did not in the
least understand, and that quite took away from the words any suspicion
of intentional rudeness.

"If I have all that, I suppose it's natural and not a disguise," she
remarked.

"My beard is natural too," he retorted.

"All the same, I