but you only see the gang that goes over to the other side every
summer. There's one Atheson family in America worth millions, but I
know that crowd; she doesn't belong to it. I don't know what Atheson
family she does belong to. She's a mystery, with her Killimaga and her
money and her veil."

"Why," said Mark, "every woman wears a veil--the sun, you know."

"Yes; the sun, and the rain, and the shade, and _every_ kind of
weather!"

The detective's face was betraying him again. But the luncheon was
over, and Mark would not be probed. He had made up his mind to go
early to the rectory, so he left Saunders with a parting shot:

"You'd better go on with the book sales. You've loafed all day.
That's bad business policy for a Yankee. What would your wooden nutmeg
ancestors say to that?"

Saunders grinned.

"They wouldn't like it," he answered. "They're not like ancestors who
wouldn't have been able to sell even a real nutmeg."

Mark acknowledged that in repartee Saunders scored, then went out to
make his way toward the rectory. As he passed the First National Bank
he saw the constable talking to the cashier.