eek reflected in rippled counterpart the shimmer of overhanging
greenery. Out of a tangle of undergrowth beyond reared two slender
poplars. The middle distance was bright with young barley, and in the
background stretched the hills in misty purple.

There, he set up his easel, and, while his eyes wandered, his fingers
were selecting the color tubes with the deft accuracy of the pianist's
touch on the keys.

For a time, he saw only the thing he was to paint; then, there rose
before his eyes the face of a girl, and beyond it the sinister visage
of the South American. His brow darkened. Always, there had lurked in
the background of his thoughts a specter, some Nemesis who might at
any moment come forward, bearing black reminders--possible
accusations. At last, it seemed the specter had come out of the
shadow, and taken the center of the stage, and in the spotlight he
wore the features of Senor Ribero. He had intended questioning Ribero,
but had hesitated. The thing had been sudden, and it is humiliating to
go to a man one has never met before to learn something of one's self,
when that man has assumed an attitude almost brutally hostile from the
outset. The method must first be considered, and, when early that
morning he had inquired about the diplomat, it had been to learn that
a night train had taken the man to his legation in Washington. He
must give the problem in its new guise reflection, and, meanwhile, he
must live in the shadow of its possible tragedy.

There was no element of the coward's procrastination in Saxon's
thoughts. Even his own speculation as to what the other man might have
been, had never suggested the possibility that he was a craven.

He held up his hand, and studied the scar. The bared forearm, under
the uprolled sleeve, was as brown and steady as a sculptor's work in
bronze.

Suddenly, he heard a laugh at his back, a tuneful laugh like a trill
struck from a xylophone, and came to his feet with a realization of a
blue gingham dress, a girlish figure, a sunbonnet and a huge cluster
of dogwood blossoms. The sunbonnet and dogwood branches seemed
conspiring to hide all the face except the violet eyes that looked out
from them. Near by stood a fox terrier, silently and alertly regarding
him, its head cocked jauntily to the side.

But, even before she had lowered the dogwood blossoms enough to reveal
her face, the lancelike uprightness of her carriage brought
recognition and astonishment.

"Do yo