quite impossible for
Garrison to ask them again to retire. Dorothy crossed the room and
seated herself before the piano. Garrison followed, and stood there at
her side.

She had no spirit for music, and no inclination to play, nevertheless
she permitted her hands to wander up and down the keys, calling forth a
sweetly sad bit of Hungarian song that took a potent hold on Garrison's
emotions.

"Is there anything I can do but go?" he murmured, his voice well masked
by the melody. "Do you think you may need me very soon?"

"I do not know. I hope not," she answered, for him alone to hear.
"I'm sorry it's been so disagreeable. Do you really have to go away
from town?"

"Yes."

"To-day you said you had no employment."

"It was true. Employment came within ten minutes of your leaving. I
took it. For you know you hardly expected to require my services so
soon."

She played a trifle louder, and asked him:

"Where are you going?"

"To Branchville and Hickwood."

The playing suddenly ceased. She looked up at him swiftly. In nervous
haste she resumed her music.

"Not on detective work? You mentioned insurance."

"It concerns insurance."

She was silent for a moment.

"When do you return?"

"I hardly know," he answered. "And I suppose I've got to start at once
in order to maintain our little fiction."

"Don't forget to write," she said, blushing, as she had before; and she
added: "for appearances." She rose from her seat.

Garrison pulled out his watch and remarked, for the Robinsons to hear:
"Well, I've got to be off."

"Wait a minute, please," said Dorothy, as if possessed by a sudden
impulse, and she ran from the room like a child.

With nothing particularly pleasant to say to the Robinsons, Garrison
approached a center-table and turned the pages of a book.

Dorothy was back in a moment.

"I'll go down to the door," she said.

Garrison said good-night to the Robinsons, who answered curtly. He
closed the door upon them as he left the room.

Dorothy had hastened to the stairs before him, and continued down to
the hall. Her face was intensely white again as she turned about,
drawing from her dress a neat, flat parcel, wrapped in paper.

"I told you to-day that I trust you absolutely," she said, in a nervous
undertone. "I wish you'd take care of this package."

Garrison took it, finding it heavy in his hand. "What is it?" he said.

"Don't try to talk--they'll listen," she cautioned.