ry river he, leaving the main highway, walked in somewhat
discouraged fashion. It might avail him little, so much time had
elapsed, but from the edge of the bluff he would be afforded a view of
the surrounding country and the topography of the coast.

A vast spread of the ocean unfolded to his gaze before he had reached
the brink of the prominence. His heavy-lidded eyes, sweeping to the
right, rested on a heterogeneous group of dwellings scattered well above
the sands and directly below a wooded uprising of land. Myriad specks of
light glimmered amid shadowy roofs. Brownville? Undoubtedly! A board
walk ran along the ocean and a small pier extended like an arm over the
water. On the faintly glistening sands old boats, drawn up here and
there, resembled so many black footprints.

Not far from where Mr. Heatherbloom stood a path went downward, a
shorter way to the village than by the road he had just left. He stared
unthinkingly a moment at the narrow walk; then began mechanically to
descend. A dull realization weighed on him that when he reached his
destination the woman would be far away. He wondered why he had gone on,
under the circumstances--why he had ever thought he stood a ghost of a
chance of overtaking her? Only the hopelessness of the situation, in all
its grim verity, faced him now.

The path zigzagged through the bushes. At a turn the village was lost to
sight; in front was a sheer fall to the sea. As he kept on, projecting
branches struck him and raising his hand to guard his face, he, tripped
and almost fell. Recovering himself, he glanced down; something had
caught on his shoe and he leaned over to loosen it. His fingers closed
on a long strip of soft substance--a veil, the kind worn by women
motoring! Mr. Heatherbloom's eyes rested on it apathetically, then with
a sudden flash of interest; a faint but heavy perfume emanated from the
silky filament. It was darkish in hue--brown, he should say; the Russian
woman was partial to that color. The thought came to him quickly; he
stood bewildered. What if it were hers? Then how had it come here, on
this narrow foot-path, unless--Had the big car stopped at the top of the
promontory and discharged its passengers there? But why should it have
done so; for what possible reason?

He could think of none. Other women came this way--the path was not
difficult. Other women wore brown veils. And yet that odd familiar
fragrance--It seemed to belong to a foreign bizarre pe