came up in the 'bus together. I feel very sure you can have no idea....
Shall I repeat his story? I don't, of course, want to trouble you
needlessly."

"Do."

So bidden, he swiftly epitomized the narrative told him by the fellow
Hofheim, who had got it at fifth or sixth hand after Mrs. Heth's
striking of the right note. The Hofheim rendering seemed to include such
details as that Dalhousie (being an entire stranger to Miss Heth) had
overthrown her boat with homicidal hands, and that, as he swam away, he
had laughed repeatedly and maniacally over his shoulder at the girl's
agonized screams.

"They don't say that he struck you--with an oar," the man concluded, sad
and satirical. "I believe that's the only detail of the sort they
omit.... As a matter of fact, Miss Heth, Dal says he never heard you
scream at all."

Then he clearly paused for a reply, perhaps a reassuring burst; but
there was only silence. The harried girl on the bench was thinking,
intently but with some bewilderment. Somewhat aghast as she was (truth
to tell) at the way in which the minor variations had been maliciously
distorted, her attention had been closely engaged by the curious way in
which Mr. Dalhousie's friend was going at things. Why did he sound less
like a challenge and a threat than like somebody whistling hopefully to
keep up his courage?

The question irresistibly emerged. Carlisle's slim fingers furled and
unfurled the end of her mermaiden's scarf, and she looked up at the tall