e on the scene just then changed the whole
trend of Spencer's actions.

"What a delightful place this is!" he went on as they walked together
through a long corridor. "But what is the matter with the people? They
don't mix. I would not have believed that there were so many prigs in
the British Isles."

Some such candid opinion had occurred to Spencer; but, being an
American, he thought that perhaps he might be mistaken. "The English
character is somewhat adaptable to environment, I have heard. That is
why you send out such excellent colonists," he said.

"Doesn't that go rather to prove that everybody here should be hail
fellow well met?"

"Not at all. They take their pose from the Alps,--snow, glaciers, hard
rock, you know,--that is the subtlety of it."

The vicar laughed. "You have given me a new point of view," he said.
"Some of them are slippery customers too. Yes, one might carry the
parallel a long way. But here we are. Now, mind you cut me as a
partner. I have tried the others, and found them severely critical--as
bridge players. You look a stoic."

The vicar had his wish. Spencer and he opposed a man from Pittsburg,
named Holt, and Dunston, an Englishman.

While the latter was shuffling the cards for Hare's deal he said
something that took one, at least, of his hearers by surprise. "Bower
has turned up, I see. What has brought him to the Engadine at this
time of year I can't guess, unless perhaps he is interested in a
pretty face."

"At this time of the year," repeated Spencer. "Isn't this the season?"

"Not for him. He used to be a famous climber; but he has given it up
since he waxed fat and prosperous. I have met him once or twice at
St. Moritz in the winter. Otherwise, he usually shows up in the
fashionable resorts in August,--Ostend, or Trouville, or, if he is
livery, Vichy or Aix-les-Bains,--anywhere but this quiet spot.
Bower likes excitement too. He often opens a thousand pound bank at
baccarat, whereas people are shocked in Maloja at seeing Hare play
bridge at tenpence a hundred."

"I leave it, partner," broke in the vicar, to whom the game was the
thing.

"No trumps," said Spencer, without giving the least heed to his cards.
It was true his eyes were resting on the ace, king, and queen of
spades; but his mind was tortured by the belief that by his fantastic
conceit in sending Helen to this Alpine fastness he had delivered her
bound to the vultures.

"Double no trumps," said Dunston, gl