"Well, I found I wasn't making it a case of sleep, exactly, and so I got
up."

"Well, I hadn't gone to bed for much the same reason. Why couldn't you
sleep? A real-estate broker ought to have a clean conscience."

"So ought a publisher, for that matter. What do you think of this
ghost-dance, anyway?"

"It might be amusing--if it fails." Verrian was tempted to add the
condition by the opportunity for a cynicism which he did not feel. It is
one of the privileges of youth to be cynical, whether or no.

Bushwick sat down before the fire and rubbed his shins with his two
hands unrestfully, drawing in a long breath between his teeth. "These
things get on to my nerves sometimes. I shouldn't want the ghost-dance
to fail."

"On Mrs. Westangle's account?"

"I guess Mrs. Westangle could stand it. Look here!" It was rather a
customary phrase of his, Verrian noted. As he now used it he looked
alertly round at Verrian, with his hands still on his shins. "What's the
use of our beating round the bush?"

Verrian delayed his answer long enough to decide against the aimless pun
of asking, "What Bushwick?" and merely asked, "What bush?"

"The bush where the milk in the cocoanut grows. You don't pretend that
you believe Mrs. Westangle has been getting up all these fairy stunts?"

Verrian returned to his cigar, from which the ashen wraith dropped into
his lap. "I guess you'll have to be a little clearer." But as Bushwick
continued silently looking at him, the thing could not be left at this
point, and he was obliged to ask of his own initiative, "How much do you
know?"

Bushwick leaned back in his chair, with his eyes still on Verrian's
profile. "As much as Miss Macroyd could tell me."

"Ah, I'm still in the dark," Verrian politely regretted, but not with a
tacit wish to wring Miss Macroyd's neck, which he would not have known
how to account for.

"Well, she says that Mrs. Westangle has a professional assistant who's
doing the whole job for her, and that she came down on the same train
with herself and you."

"Did she say that she grabbed the whole victoria for herself and maid at
the station?" Verrian demanded, in a burst of rage, "and left us to get
here the best way we could?"

Bushwick grinned. "She supposed there were other carriages, and when she
found there weren't she hurried the victoria back for you."

"You think she believes all that? I'm glad she has the decency to be
ashamed of her behavior."

"I'm not de