His laugh was unaccompanied by any words that justified the abrupt change. To Angus it brought a feeling of relief. His imagination was not acute. It is doubtful if he realized the lack of mirth, the hollow, false ring of that laugh. All he knew was that he felt as though some living volcano under him had suddenly ceased to threaten, and he was given a respite. Alexander Hendrie walked across to the desk, and flung his bulk into the sumptuously upholstered chair that stood before it.

He swung it round, and pointed at a chair near by, and facing him, so placed that the light fell full upon the face of its occupant.

"Sit down," he commanded, with cold authority.

Angus obeyed, waiting and wondering. Hendrie's present mood was entirely new to him. He had stirred the fires in this man, and must now watch, and wait, to see how they burned.

But the result was elusive. Hendrie reached out and drew the cigar cabinet toward him. With deliberate care he selected a cigar, and pushed the cabinet within the other's reach.

"Smoke," he said laconically; and Angus fingered one of the priceless cigars tenderly.

Hendrie pierced the end of his cigar with elaborate care. He lit it.

Then he leaned back in the chair, and, locking his fingers, rested his elbows upon the arms of it, while his eyes remained upon the blotting-sheet in front of him.

Presently he looked round, and a swift, cold glance shot into Angus Moraine's face.

"When I came in here I'd sent for you," he said. "You were in your quarters--which was not usual at this time." He paused. Then he went on. "Being in your quarters you could have joined me in thirty seconds.

You came after ten minutes or so. When you came, you came quietly.

Guess you stole into the room--to see what I was doing. Why? Because you had discovered this blotting-sheet--with its writing. You'd found it, examined it, and placed it back in the pad _reversed_; and--you knew it was my wife's writing. Guess you've something to tell me--go ahead."

The directness of the challenge was so characteristic of Hendrie that Angus was not wholly unprepared for it. The keen a.n.a.lysis of his personal att.i.tude disconcerted him, perhaps, but, after a moment's thought, it left him comparatively untroubled. It was only another exhibition of Hendrie's wonderful mentality--that mentality which had carried him soaring above the heads of all his rivals.

"How much d'you want to know?"

For a second Hendrie's cold, gray eyes lit, then his swift command came with tremendous yet restrained heat.

"All, d.a.m.n you, all!"

Angus flushed. There was no resentment in him at the other's tone. His flush was inspired by some feeling of satisfaction.

He pointed at the blotting-sheet.

"Guess that Frank has another name. Leastways I should say it is 'Frank Smith,' who registers in that name at the Russell Hotel in Everton--mostly when you're away."

The millionaire's eyes were intent upon the blotting-sheet. He offered no comment.

"The townsfolk have seen him riding with Mrs. Hendrie--quite a lot--when you're away. He's a big feller. Bigger than you. He's got thick fair hair, and is a good-looker."

For a second, Hendrie's eyes lifted.

"Young?"

"Anything up to twenty-five."

Hendrie was no longer contemplating the incriminating paper. He was gazing at it, and beyond it, searching the cells of memory.

"Go on," he said. His cigar had gone out.

Angus eyed his employer squarely. Strangely enough a a twinge of compunction was making itself felt. He drew a deep breath. Somehow the atmosphere of the room had suddenly become oppressive. His cigar had gone out, too.

"Yes," he said. "I saw that writing. I read it. I left it so that when you came in you couldn't miss it. I did these things because--of what I've seen."

"Seen?" Again the millionaire's eyes lifted in the other's direction.

It was only for a second. They were back again in an instant, staring beyond the blotting-sheet.

"Yes. It was soon after Mrs. Hendrie came here. You had gone away with the automobile. She wanted a buggy and team. She wanted to study the country and people she was living among. She was away all day. That night I went into Everton. I came to the ford. Guess I heard voices beyond the bluff that separated me from it. One was Mrs. Hendrie's."

"The other?"

"A man's."

Angus paused. The oppressiveness of the room almost stifled him.

"They had spent the day together. The woman was saying what a great time they'd had together. She was arranging when she would see him again. They parted. I heard them kiss each other."

Hendrie swung his chair slowly round. He was smiling. Angus was alarmed. For the first time in his life he experienced a sensation of fear of another man.

"They--kissed?"

There was no emotion in the millionaire's voice. He might have been asking a question of merely ordinary interest.

Angus nodded.

"Yes," he said. "I heard them. I wasn't mistaken, I'm dead sure. Then they parted. Mrs. Hendrie got back across the ford, on to the lower trail with the buggy. The man traipsed on to the hotel. I saw him. It was the man who registers there as 'Frank Smith.'"

"A big man, with thick, fair hair, and--a good-looker?"

Hendrie detailed the description as though registering it in his memory, and comparing it with a picture already there.

"Yes."

"Anything else?"

The millionaire reached for a match and relit his cigar.

"Only this business of going to Calford--with you away. That on top of the writing. That writing was done last night, I guess, and Mrs.

Hendrie has mailed no letter since. Maybe she's taken it with her.

Maybe she's going to meet him there. Maybe I'm only guessing, but I thought it time you--knew 'bout things."

Angus breathed a sigh. He had done all he intended to do, and now he--wondered.

The millionaire was searching his face with his cold, keen eyes, but he was still smiling. It was that smile which Angus feared. However, he faced the scrutiny, watching the upward curling of the smoke from the other's cigar, while he relit and puffed a little unsteadily at his own.

"Well?" he said, after a long silence.

Hendrie withdrew his gaze and turned to his desk again.

"Better not cancel the car. I'll need it after all."