es in the morning and out on the terrace. She felt no
further uneasiness on the score of the disguise now. Henson was certain
to be inquisitive, it was part of his nature, but he was not going to
learn anything. Chris smiled as she saw Henson lumbering towards her. He
seemed all the better for his night's rest.

"The rose blooms early here," he said, gallantly. "Let me express
the hope that you have quite forgiven me for the fright I gave you
last night."

"I guess I don't recollect the fright," Chris drawled. "And if there was
any fright I calculate it was on the other side. And how are you this
morning? You look as if you had been in the wars. Got some trouble with
your throat, or what?"

"A slight operation," Henson said, airily. "I have been speaking too
much in public lately and a little something had to be removed. I am
much better."

The ready lie tripped off his tongue. Chris smiled slightly.

"Do you know, you remind me very much of somebody," he went on. "And yet
I don't know why, because you are quite different. Lord Littimer tells me
you are an American."

"The Stars and Stripes," Chris laughed. "I guess our nation is the first
on earth. Now, if you happen to know anything about Boston--"

"I never was in Boston in my life," Henson replied, hastily. The name
seemed to render him uneasy. "Have you been in England very long?"

Chris replied that she was enjoying England for the first time. But she
was not there to answer questions, her _role_ was to ask them. But she
was dealing with a past-master in the art of gleaning information, and
Henson was getting on her nerves. She gave a little cry of pleasure as a
magnificent specimen of a bloodhound came trotting down the terrace and
paused in friendly fashion before her.

"What a lovely dog," she exclaimed. "Do you like dogs, Mr. Henson?"

She looked up beamingly into his face as she spoke; she saw the heavy
features darken and the eyes grow small with anger.

"I loathe them, and they loathe me," Henson growled. "Look at him!"

He pointed to the dog, who showed his teeth with an angry growl. And yet
the great sleek head lay against the girl's knee in perfect confidence.
Henson looked on uneasily and backed a little way. The dog marked his
every movement.

"See how the brute shows his teeth at me," he said.

"Please send him away, Miss Lee. I am certain he is getting ready for
a spring."

Henson's face was white and hot and wet, his lips trembled.