heard him whistling in the
distance, then I stumbled, and a black bog engulfed me, and I woke with
a stifled cry.

I woke to the knowledge that the sun was streaming in at my windows,
and that some sound like a falling plank had roused me from my uneasy
slumbers. It must be past six o'clock, I thought; surely the men must be
at work. Yes, I could hear their voices; and the next moment I had jumped
out of bed, and was dressing myself with all possible haste.

It was nearly seven when I crept down into the drawing-room to
reconnoitre the adjoining house. As I unfastened the window I heard the
same sweet whistling that had arrested my attention yesterday.

Without a moment's hesitation I walked out on the balcony. The young
painter looked round in some surprise at the sound of my footsteps, and
touched his cap with a half-smile.

'It is a beautiful morning,' I began nervously, for I wanted to make him
speak. 'Have you been at work long?'

'Ever since six o'clock,' he returned, and I think he was a little
surprised at hearing himself addressed. 'We work early these light
mornings.' And then he took up his brush and went on painting.

I watched him for a minute or two without a word. How was I to proceed?
My presence seemed to puzzle him. Perhaps he wondered why a lady should
take such interest in his work. I saw him glance at me uneasily.

'Will you let me speak to you?' I said, in a very low voice, and as he
came towards me, rather unwillingly, I continued: 'I know the men call
you Jack Poynter, but that is not your name. You are Eric Hamilton; no,
do not be frightened: I am Gladys's friend, and I will not injure you.'

I had broken off abruptly, for I was alarmed at the effect of my words.
The young painter's face had become ashen pale, and the brush had fallen
out of his shaking hand. The next moment a fierce, angry light had come
to his eyes.

'What do you mean? who are you?' he demanded, in a trembling voice, but
even at the moment's agitation I noticed he spoke with the refined
intonation of a gentleman. 'I know nothing of what you say: you must
take me for another man. I am Jack Poynter.'

'Oh, Mr. Hamilton,' I implored, stretching out my hands across the
balcony, 'do not treat me as an enemy. I am a friend, who only means
well. For Gladys's sake listen to me a moment.'

'I will hear nothing!' he stammered angrily. 'I will not be hindered in
my work any longer. Excuse me if I am rude to a lady, but you t