ity to notice the sudden blanching of Zen's face at the mention
of Drazk.

"You're wrong about his not having been seen again, Y.D.," said Grant.
"He managed to locate me somewhere in France. That reminds me, he had a
message for you, Mrs. Transley. I'm afraid Drazk is as irresponsible as
ever, provided he hasn't passed out, which is more than likely."

Grant shook hands cordially with Y.D. and his wife, with Squiggs and
Mrs. Squiggs, with Transley and Mrs. Transley. Any inclination he may
have felt to linger over Zen's hand was checked by her quick withdrawal
of it, and there was something in her manner quite beyond his
understanding. He could have sworn that the self-possessed Zen Transley
was actually trembling.

CHAPTER XIX

The next day Wilson paid his usual visit to the field where Grant was
plowing, and again was he the bearer of a message. With much difficulty
he managed to extricate the envelope from a pocket.

"Dear Mr. Grant," it read, "I am so excited over a remark you dropped
last night I must see you again as soon as possible. Can you drop in
to-night, say at eight. Yours,--ZEN."

Grant read the message a second time, wondering what remark of his could
have occasioned it. As he recalled the evening's conversation it had
been most about his experiment, and he had a sense that he had occupied
a little more of the stage than strictly good form would have suggested.
However, it was HIS scheme that had been under discussion, and he did
not propose to let it suffer for lack of a champion. But what had he
said that could be of more than general interest to Zen Transley? For a
moment he wondered if she had created a pretext upon which to bring him
to the house by the river, and then instantly dismissed that thought as
unworthy of him. At any rate it was evident that his addressing her by
her Christian name in the last message had given no offence. This
time she had not called him "The Man-on-the-Hill," and there was no
suggestion of playfulness in the note. Then the signature, "Yours, Zen";
that might mean everything, or it might mean nothing. Either it was
purely formal or it implied a very great deal indeed. Grant reflected
that it could hardly be interpreted anywhere between those two extremes,
and was it reasonable to suppose that Zen would use it in an ENTIRELY
formal sense? If it had been "yours truly," or "yours sincerely," or
any such stereotyped conclusion, it would not have called for a secon