esence upon any matter that could not be openly discussed before
her. Their intimacy was not without its reservations.

Maud in her quiet happiness detected no hint of restraint in his manner.
But he had always been elusive, often subtle. She did not look for
candour from Charles Rex--unless she asked for it.

Watching him on that spring evening in the soft glow of the candles,
marking the restless play of feature, the agile readiness of his wit, she
asked herself, not for the first time, what manner of soul he had behind
the mask. Somehow she did not wholly believe in that entity which so
often looked jibing forth. Though she could ascribe no reason for it, she
had a strong suspicion that the real self that was Saltash was of a
different fibre altogether--a thing that had often suffered violence it
might be, but nevertheless possessed of that gift of the resurrection
which no violence can destroy.

"Why are you dissecting me tonight?" he asked her once and laughed and
changed the subject before she could reply.

When dinner was over and she rose, he sprang to open the door for her
with that royal _bonhomie_ of his which somehow gave him the right to
enter where others waited for permission.

"Take Bunny with you!" he murmured. "I want to talk to Jake."

She lifted her eyes with a flash of surprise. He bent towards her.

"And afterwards to you, Queen Rose. I shall not forget to claim my
privileges in that respect."

She laughed a little, but she obeyed his behest as a matter of course.
"Come for a turn in the garden with me, Bunny!" she said. "I've hardly
seen you today."

The boy got up, passing Jake with a careless slap on the shoulder that
testified to the excellent good fellowship that existed between them.

Saltash turned back into the room, and threw himself down by his host.
"That's right," he said as the door closed upon the brother and sister.
"Now we can talk."

Jake pushed a box of cigars to him. His keen eyes took Saltash in with
the attention of the man accustomed to probe beneath the surface. There
were not many who could hide from Jake Bolton anything he desired to
know.

Saltash flicked an eyelid under his direct scrutiny as he chose his
cigar. He was never more baffling than in his moments of candour.

"There are several things I've come to consult you about, Jake," he said
easily, as Jake leaned across with a match.

"I'm listening," said Jake.

Saltash sent him a quizzical glance as