wishing for an opportunity to speak to Mrs. Wilder, seized upon it and
offered himself as her escort. She agreed with complimentary readiness,
and they turned along a wooded road, where the shadows were deep and
where Hartley felt the gripping hands of romance loosen his
heart-strings.

Mrs. Wilder listened to him, or appeared to do so, which is much the
same in effect, and Hartley was not critical. She was a good listener,
as women who have something else to think about often are; and so they
rode along the twisting path, and the wind sang in the plumes of the
bamboo trees, and Hartley believed that it sang a romantic lyric of
platonic admiration, exquisitely hinted at by a tactful man, and
properly appreciated by a very beautiful woman.

"By the way," she said carelessly, "have you found that wretched little
Absalom yet? What a bother he has been since he took it into his head to
go off to America, or wherever it is he went to."

"I am glad you mentioned him," said Hartley, his face growing suddenly
serious. "I have a question or two that I want very much to ask you."

"A question or two? That sounds so very legal. Really, Mr. Hartley, I
believe you credit me with having Absalom's body hanging up in one of my
_almirahs_. Honestly, don't you really believe that I had a hand in
putting him out of the way?"

She laughed her hard little laugh, and shot a look at him over her
shoulder.

"You do know something, some little thing it may be, but something that