might help me."

"About Absalom, or about someone else?"

"About whoever you saw him with."

Hartley pushed his pony alongside of hers, but her face revealed
nothing, and was quite expressionless.

"Whoever I saw him with?" she echoed reflectively. "Ah, but it is so
long ago, Mr. Hartley, I can't even remember now whether I was out or
not that evening."

"You are only playing with me," said Hartley a little irritably. "The
policeman on duty at the cross-roads below Paradise Street saw you."

Her face became suddenly so drawn and startled that Hartley regretted
his words almost as he spoke them.

"Wait a minute, Mr. Hartley," she said, in a strained, hard voice. "You
have to explain to me why you have asked your men questions connected
with me."

"I did not ask questions; I was told."

She pulled up her pony, and, turning her head away from him, looked out
silently over the dip of ground below them. Hartley did not break her
silence. He saw that he had come close to some deep emotion, and he
watched her curiously, but Mrs. Wilder, even if she was conscious of his
look, appeared quite indifferent to it. He could form no idea along what