roo houses to close every window
and shutter at about ten o'clock each morning, not throwing them open
again until sunset. This keeps the interiors extraordinarily cool,
and, as the walls are usually whitewashed, there is plenty of light.

"I expect I shall find her in the drawing-room," Saxby remarked, and
passed on. Christine saw him leave again about half an hour later.
Then the sound of waltz-music within the closed house told that Mrs.
van Cannan was beguiling away the rest of the long, hot morning in a
favourite fashion. At noon, the heat, as usual, made the summer-house
untenable, and its occupants were driven indoors.

Lunch introduced the only excitement the quiet monotony of the day ever
offered, when the men came filing into the soft gloom of the
dining-room, bringing with them a suggestion of a world of work that
still went on its way, come rain, come shine. All of them took
advantage of the custom of the climate to appear coatless. Indeed, the
fashion of shirts was sometimes so _decolletee_ as to be slightly
embarrassing to English eyes. Only Saltire paid the company the
compliment of unrolling his sleeves, buttoning the top button of his
shirt, and assuming a tie for the occasion.

Everyone seemed of opinion that the summer rains were brewing and that
was the reason of the insufferable heat.

"We'll have a couple of days of this," prophesied Andrew McNeil, "then
down it will come with a vengeance."

"The land wants it, of course, but it will be a confounded nuisance to
me," remarked the forestry expert.

"Oh, Mr. Saltire, you are insatiable in your work of murder," smiled
his hostess. "Are you as merciless in all your dealings?" She looked
at him with provoking eyes. Christine hardened herself to hear an
answer in the same vein, but was as agreeably relieved as surprised.

"I want to get the work done," said Saltire briefly.

"I never knew any one so anxious to leave us before," grumbled Mrs. van
Cannan prettily. "You must be terribly bored with us all."

"Never less in my life."

The answer was so impersonal as to be almost a sign of boredom in
itself, and Mrs. van Cannan, little accustomed to have her charming
advances met in such fashion, turned away with a pucker on her brow to
a more grateful audience. At the same moment, an irresistible impulse
drew Christine's glance to Saltire in time to receive one of those
straight, significant looks that indescribably disturbed her. Nothin