she said, looking round, as though
the occurrence had been ordinary. "It is a chant hummed by the negro
woodcutters of Louisiana as they tramp homeward in the evening. It is
pretty, isn't it?"

"It's a rum thing," said one they called the Prince, though Alpheus
Richmond was the name by which his godmother knew him. "But who's the
gentleman behind the scenes--in the greenroom?"

As he said this he looked--or tried to look--knowingly at Mrs. Detlor,
for, the Prince desired greatly to appear familiar with people and things
theatrical, and Mrs. Detlor knew many in the actor and artist world.

Mrs. Detlor smiled in his direction, but the smile was not reassuring. He
was, however, delighted. He almost asked her then and there to ride with
him on the morrow, but he remembered that he could drive much better than
he could ride, and, in the pause necessary to think the matter out, the
chance passed--he could not concentrate himself easily.

"Yes. Who is it?" said the young girl.

"Lord, I'll find out," said the flaring Alpheus, a jeweled hand at his
tie as he rose.

But their host had made up his mind. He did not know whether Mrs. Detlor
did or did not recognize the voice, but he felt that she did not wish the
matter to go farther. The thing was irregular if he was a stranger, and if
he were not a stranger it lay with Mrs. Detlor whether he should be
discovered.

There was a curious stillness in Mrs. Detlor's manner, as though she were
waiting further development of the incident. Her mind was in a whirl of
memories. There was a strange thumping sensation in her head. Yet who was
to know that from her manner?

She could not help flashing a look of thanks to Hagar when he stepped
quickly between the Prince and the window and said in what she called his
light comedy manner:

"No, no, Richmond. Let us keep up the illusion. The gentleman has done us
a service; otherwise we had lost the best half of Mrs. Detlor's song.
We'll not put him at disadvantage."

"Oh, but look here, Hagar," said the other protestingly as he laid his
hand upon the curtains.

Few men could resist the quiet decision of Hagar's manner, though he often
laughed that, having but a poor opinion of his will as he knew it, and
believing that he acted firmness without possessing it, save where he was
purely selfish. He put his hands in his pockets carelessly, and said in a
low, decisive tone, "Don't do it, if you please."

But he smiled, too, so that oth