Trix flushed. "Oh, wasn't there? I--" she broke off.

Then she looked straight at him.

"I knew there wasn't," she confessed. "But I was afraid to go back, so I had to make you look away while I ran. It was the cows." She sighed. She felt she had been making bovine explanations during the greater part of the afternoon.

"Cows, Miss?" queried Antony, a twinkle in his eyes.

Trix nodded.

"Yes; awful beasts with white faces, in the field above the wood. I'm not sure they weren't bulls."

Antony laughed.

"Sure, and why weren't you telling me, then? I'd have tackled them for you."

Trix smiled.

"I never thought of that way out of the difficulty," she owned. "But it will be all right, I ex--" She broke off. She had been within an ace of saying she had explained matters to Mr. Danver. She really must be careful. "I expect--I'm sure you won't get into trouble about it," she stuttered.

"Sure, that's all right," he said, a trifle puzzled.

There was a queer pleasure in this little renewal of the acquaintanceship of the bygone days, despite the fact of its being an entirely one-sided renewal. He'd have known her anywhere. It was the same small vivacious face, the same odd little upward tilt to the chin, the same varied inflection of voice, the same little quick gestures. He would have liked to keep her standing there while he recalled the small imperious child in the elfin-like figure before him. But, her property having been restored, there was nothing on earth further he could say, no possible reason for prolonging the conversation. He waited, however, for Trix to give the dismissal.

Trix was looking at him, a queer puzzlement in her eyes. Why _was_ his face so oddly familiar? It was utterly impossible that she should have met him before, at all events on the intimate footing the familiarity of his face suggested. It must be merely an extraordinary likeness to someone to whom she could not at the moment put a name. Quite suddenly she realized that they were scrutinizing each other in a way that certainly cannot be termed exactly orthodox. She pulled herself together.

"Thank you for restoring my glove," said she with a fine resumption of dignity; and she turned off once more down the drive.

Antony went slowly back to his shears.

CHAPTER XXIV

AN INTEREST IN LIFE

Doctor Hilary was walking down the lane in a somewhat preoccupied frame of mind. He had been oddly preoccupied the last day or so, lapsing into prolonged meditations from which he would emerge with a sudden and almost guilty start.

Coming opposite the drive gates of Chorley Old Hall, he was brought to a sense of his surroundings by a figure, which emerged suddenly from them and came to a dead stop.

"Oh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Doctor Hilary. "Good afternoon." And he took off his cap.

"Good afternoon," responded Trix. She turned along the lane beside him.

"Have you been interviewing the gardens?" he asked. She fancied there was the faintest trace of anxiety in his voice.

A sudden spirit of mischief took possession of Trix. She had been given leave. It was really too good an opportunity to be lost.

"Oh no," she responded, dove-like innocence in her voice, "I've just been having tea with Mr. Danver."

If she wanted to see amazement written on his face, she had her desire.

It spread itself large over his countenance, finding verbal expression in an utterly astounded gasp.

"He seems very well," said Trix demurely.

"Miss Devereux!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Doctor Hilary.

"Yes?" asked Trix sweetly.

"Have you known all the time?" he demanded.

Trix shook her head, laughter dancing in her eyes. It found its way to her lips.

"Oh, you looked so surprised," she gurgled. "I hadn't the tiniest bit of an idea. How could I? I was never so flummuxed in all my life as when I realized who was talking to me."

Doctor Hilary was silent.

Trix put her hand on his arm, half timidly.

"Don't be angry," she said. "He wasn't. And I've promised faithfully not to tell."

Doctor Hilary glanced down at the hand on his arm.

"I'm not angry," he said with a queer smile, "I'm only--" He stopped.

"Flummuxed, like I was," nodded Trix, removing her hand. "It's quite the amazingest thing I ever knew." She gave another little gurgle of laughter, looking up at the very blue sky as if inviting it to share her pleasure.

"How much did he tell you?" asked Doctor Hilary.

Trix lowered her chin, and considered briefly.

"Just nothing, now I come to think of it, beyond the fact that he was Mr.

Danver. But then I'd really been the first to volunteer that piece of information. I haven't the faintest notion why there's all this mystery, and why he has pretended to be dead. He didn't want me to know that. So please don't say anything that could tell me. He said I could talk to you."

"I won't," smiled Doctor Hilary answering the request.

They walked on a few steps in silence.

"But what I should like to know," he said after a minute, "is how you managed to get inside the house at all?"

"Oh dear!" sighed Trix twisting her glove round her wrist.

Doctor Hilary looked rather surprised.

"Don't say if you'd rather not," he remarked quickly.

Trix sighed again.