sumed
quickly. "That evening I returned to the graveyard surreptitiously,
and took up a position in the black shelter of the surrounding
woods. I saw all you saw. But the robed figures were not the ghosts
which you thought them to be; they were Chinese, carrying their boxes
and bundles of personal luggage, and, I have no doubt, a cargo of
opium. Then I understood that the graveyard was honeycombed with
cellars, and that this place formed the central depot of Iredale's
traffic and his distributing station. I can understand how these
'yellow-devils' are distributed by means of loaded hayracks and
such things. The point I have not fathomed is the means by which
the 'goods' are brought into the country. I suggest the only means I
can think of as being almost without risk, and that is the lake."

Hervey paused to watch the effect of his story. Prudence gave no sign.
She no longer looked at her companion, but away across the harvested
fields in the direction of Iredale's ranch. As he waited for her
comment her lips moved.

"Go on," was all she said; and the man proceeded.

"It was an unconscious expression which, in the first flush of
discovery I made use of which ultimately gave me a clue to the rest.
As realization of Iredale's doings came to me I thought of the
notorious 'Traffic in Yellow.' That night I pondered long over the
whole thing. I had learned to like Iredale better than any man I have
ever known. He had always seemed such an honest, straightforward
man. And all of you folks were so fond of him. It was a painful
awakening; but there was worse to come, for, as I lay awake
thinking, there flashed through my brain the recollection of what
you had told me of Grey's death and his reference to the notice in
the paper. Instantly the interpretation of that line came to me. It
related to the yellow traffic. And I shuddered as I reviewed the
possibilities which my discovery opened up. I couldn't rest. A
feverish desire to know the worst assailed me. I questioned you as
you may remember, and, with every reply you gave me, my fears
received confirmation. In the end I could no longer keep silence,
and my anger drove me to a course which I have since almost regretted,
for it has destroyed the last vestige of the regard I entertained for
the man you have all so liked and respected. I went over to the
ranch and challenged George Iredale----"

"On the night of the storm. The night he visited me. Go on."
Prudence's face was