Charred Wood | Page 9

quick discernment, and is
unhesitating in action. He saw someone about to--make himself, let us
say, unpleasant--and he moved promptly. I am glad of this chance to

thank him."
Mark hoped she would not try. The heavily lashed eyes of violet blue,
under the graceful arches, were doing that splendidly. Mark was uneasy
under the gaze of them, but strangely glad. He wanted to go and yet to
stay; but he knew that it was proper to go.
Father Murray walked with him to the end of the lawn.
"There was nothing serious in the matter to which Miss Atheson
referred, Mr. Griffin?" he said. "No one offered insult?" He was plainly
anxious.
"Not at all," answered Mark. "I think the man only wanted to stare. I
gave him a chance to stare at me--and at the water. That is all."
Father Murray looked relieved as he clasped Mark's hand.
"Good-bye," he said. "Come to see me again. I am usually alone. Come
often. The latch-string is where you can reach it."
In the street Mark met Saunders, but this time it was the agent who
wanted to talk.
"How did you like the Padre?" he began.
"Splendid. Thank you for the meeting."
"Did you see the lady who went in?"
"Yes; I was introduced."
"Introduced? Never!"
"Why not?"
"Well," the agent was confused, "I don't see why not after all. Did you
see her face?"

"She had on a veil."
"Of course; she always has. She was the woman who passed us on the
bluff road."
"You saw her, then?"
"Yes, I saw her; but not close enough to know whether--"
"What?"
"I think she is someone I know. Are you coming back to the hotel?"
CHAPTER III
UNDER SUSPICION
That night, tossing in bed, Mark Griffin found the lady of the tree
occupying the center of his thoughts. He had to acknowledge to himself
the simple truth, that she interested him more than any other woman he
had ever seen; and he had a vague idea that he had met her before--but
where? He was wise enough to know where such interest would
ultimately lead him. The more he worried about it, the more a cause for
worry it became. The very idea was foolish. He had seen her twice, had
spoken to her once. Yes, she was charming; but he had known others
almost as charming and he had not even been interested. Now he might
go deeper--and what of the risks?
Saunders was certainly shadowing the woman. The town constable was
constantly with him, seemingly ready to make an arrest the moment the
detective was sure of his ground. It was easy to figure that out. Worse
than all, the woman was afraid--or why the veil? Why the secret door
through a tree? Why her embarrassment when she faced the danger of
having the detective see her face?
On the other hand, she was a friend of the priest, and Mark had formed
a very favorable opinion of Father Murray. Then she had referred to the
incident on the bluff road very openly and without embarrassment

These things were in her favor, but--well, the rest looked bad. Above
all was the danger of falling in love with her.
Mark thought of his people in England and of his brother the Irish peer.
He knew their prejudices. What would they say if the heir presumptive
to the barony came home with an American wife? Yet why should he
care?
The worry about Saunders came back. He was undoubtedly a detective,
and surely detectives did not without cause shadow ladies of good
social standing? Mark knew there was something wrong. He knew
there was danger to himself, to his heart, and to his peace; so he
decided that he had better go away at once. Then the face he had seen
as she stepped past him out of the tree rose up, and he heard again the
voice that had in it so much gratitude when she thanked him for his
little service.
"Damn it, man," he said to himself, "you can't be a coward! She needs
help; stay to give it." That was Mark's first and last struggle over his
long-delayed moving problem.
He met Saunders at breakfast the next morning. The detective must
have been thinking, too, for his glance at Mark held a trifle of suspicion.
Mark was too old a student of human nature to miss the significance of
the look, and Saunders was too young at his business entirely to
conceal his own feelings. He tried--but too late--and was foolish
enough to think he had not betrayed himself.
Mark made up his mind to profit by the suspicion.
"Good morning, Saunders. You are thinking of the lady in the veil?"
But Saunders was already back in