Polly began to cry again, and Terry chuckled slightly.

"As a good many other young men have said under similar circumstances.
But where he did go, was to the hotel; and there, it appears, he drank
two glasses of brandy and swore at the stable boy.--Is that all, Miss
Mathers?"

"Yes; it's the last time I ever saw him and he thinks I'm engaged to Jim
Mattison."

"See here, Polly," said I with some excusable heat, "now why in thunder
didn't you tell me all this before?"

"You didn't ask me."

"She was afraid that it would get into the papers," said Terry,
soothingly. "It would be a terrible scandal to have anything like that
get out. The fact that Radnor Gaylord was likely to be hanged for a
murder he never committed, was in comparison a minor affair."

Polly turned upon him with a flash of gray eyes.

"I was going to tell before the trial. I didn't know the inquest made
any difference. I would have told the coroner the morning he came to
take my testimony, only he brought Jim Mattison with him as a witness,
and I couldn't explain before Jim."

"That would have been awkward," Terry agreed.

"Polly," said I, severely. "This is inexcusable! If you had explained to
me in the first place, the jury would never have remanded Radnor for
trial."

"But I thought you would find the real murderer, and then Radnor would
be set free. It would be awful to tell that story before a whole room
full of people and have Jim Mattison hear it. I detest Jim Mattison!"

"Be careful what you say," said Terry. "You may have to take Jim
Mattison after all. Radnor Gaylord will never ask you again."

"Then I'll ask him!" said Polly.

Terry laughed and rose.

"He's in a bad hole, Miss Mathers, but I'm not sure but that I envy him
after all."

Polly dimpled through her tears; this was the language she understood.

"Good by," she said. "You'll remember your promise?"

"Never a syllable will I breathe," said Terry, and he put a hand on my
shoulder and marched me off.

"She's a fascinating young person," he observed, as we turned into the
road.

"You are not the first to discover that," said I.

"I fancy I'm not!" he retorted with a sidewise glance at me.

Terry gazed at the landscape a few moments with a pensive light in his
eyes, then he threw back his head and laughed.

"Thank heaven, women don't go in for crime to any great extent! You're
never safe in forming any theory about 'em--their motives and their
actions don't