oned, came across the lawn to exhibit his favorite plant with the
greatest pride, but Oliver left the others to admire and ask questions
and, in ten minutes, came back alone. Coming upon the terrace again,
he saw Hotchkiss, just inside the long window, ushering out a visitor
who was talking in loud, easily recognizable tones.

"No, he doesn't seem to be here," Anthony Crawford was saying, "though
I didn't believe you, until you let me come in and see for myself. I
had something of great importance to say to him--and to the girl.
Well, I will come again to-morrow."

He passed down the room and must have come very close to the light,
for his shadow loomed suddenly, misshapen and bulky, all across the
library, even dropping its black length over the terrace outside. It
followed him, a striding giant, from window to window and then
dwindled suddenly again as Anthony Crawford himself stood under the
light in the doorway giving Hotchkiss final directions.

"Be sure to tell him that I shall be here to-morrow night and that I
shall expect him to be at home," he ordered, then climbed into the
creaking cart and drove away.

Hotchkiss stood peering into the dark after him, evidently sending no
good wishes to speed him homeward. Seeing Oliver coming up the steps
at the far end of the terrace, he walked down to speak to him.

"There was something more than usual wrong to-night," he said
anxiously. "He vowed that he must see Mr. Peyton and didn't want to
take my word for it that he was out. It was fortunate that he had gone
into the garden."

"Yes," responded Oliver, "I thought I heard that miserable rattletrap
turning in at the gate and I remembered, all of a sudden, that the
gardener told me yesterday about the night-blooming cereus. I--I
thought they ought to look at it at once."

Hotchkiss had been nervous and agitated during what must have been a
stormy interview, and he found this sudden relief too great for the
composure even of a butler. He burst into a great laugh of delight and
slapped his knee in ecstasy.

"That was the way to serve him!" he cried. "To think that prying
scoundrel found some one that was too clever for him, for once."

Oliver grinned broadly, but recovered himself in a moment.

"Hotchkiss," he said with great gravity, "you would never do for the
movies."

Janet was eating her breakfast very deliberately next morning,
lingering even after Cousin Jasper had left them and while Oliver sat
back in