Richard Maynadier remained for two days longer at Hedgely Hall, but he never was able to get Judith alone, however much he man?uvred. After he went home, he rode over several times, unexpectedly and at unusual hours, hoping to surprise her and get his opportunity, but to no avail.  
She was deliberately avoiding him, he knew, and she let him know it, in the unmistakable way of a woman. It was as though she said to him: "You want to get me off alone, Dick, but I shall not permit it."
 
So much he understood. But what troubled him, was whether it stopped with that, or whether there was a qualifying phrase—an "until I am ready," tacked on, and not yet disclosed.
 
He was not unduly sanguine, and he was properly modest, but he had thought it all over—her attitude toward him, her belief in him, her dependence upon his judgment and advice—and he considered he had reasonable ground to hope that she had come to view him in another light than as a friend. Doubtless, he had been blind not to see it before—and blind, as well, to the character of his own feelings. He simply had never thought of love. Now, he was thinking of it a very great deal.
 
[Pg 213]
 
There was something, however, which he did not exactly fancy, and that was the liking she seemed to have developed, recently, for Parkington's society—and Parkington for hers.
 
They were much together, would take long walks in the park and to the river, would talk for hours, while he told her stories of London and its great world. Maynadier did not know, of course, whether he ventured upon the softer side, whether he tried to strike the chord of self, in an appealing way—and Judith gave no indication. She was enjoying herself, so much was evident, and, at the same time, playing her part, admirably. Parkington was the stranger, and, since he seemed to wish to devote himself to his hostess, and his hostess was not averse, Maynadier could not find fault.
 
He had, indeed, ventured to throw out a cautioning word, the evening he rode home, (when, just for a moment, he was alone with her) but she had only laughed, asked him if he did not trust her, and, quickly, rejoined the company.
 
On the last evening of the house party, he came over to bid them farewell. Judith was going, on the morrow, with the Snowdens, to spend a week at Montpelier. Sir Edward Parkington, also, had been invited, and was to accompany them—as were Miss Stirling, Captain Herford and Mr. Constable. The rest were returning to their homes. He himself was departing for Annapolis, in the morning,[Pg 214] upon business of the Council, and his visit to Hedgely Hall was to be but brief.
 
He encountered Henry Marbury, as he came through the park, and they went, on a little way, together. When they came in sight of the house, Marbury stopped.
 
"Maynadier," he said, "I have something to tell you—can you give me a moment?"
 
"Certainly, sir;" said Maynadier, "as many moments as you wish."
 
Marbury considered a second, as though framing his words.
 
"It is this way," he said. "You have heard of the ransom money I paid the pirates. Well, it was recovered, at the landing, by Captain Jamison, and turned over to me, unopened—at least, he thought so, and my own inspection sustained him. I counted it, the other morning, and it was correct—or, I made it so. Just as I finished, I was called out, hastily, and I left the bags on the table. I forgot them, and did not return until late in the day. Then, something told me to count it again. I did—and found about a hundred guineas missing."
 
"Some of the servants?" said Maynadier.
 
"I think not—none of them would venture to enter my rooms even when the door is open, and it was closed—closed when I left it, and closed when I returned."
 
"Have you no means of identifying the coins?"
 
[Pg 215]
 
"None—I never make a list."
 
"What do you think?" asked Maynadier.
 
"I do not know what to think—except, that one of the guests is the pilferer."
 
"Pilferer?" said Maynadier. "You are putting it very mild, if the guilty one be a guest. He is a plain thief. I cannot believe it! It must be one of the servants."
 
"None but the house servants have access to the rooms, and I trust them thoroughly; besides, the thief, to adopt your name, opened my door unbidden, and that, as I said, no servant would have ventured. We are remitted to a guest, sir."
 
"Have you any suspicions?"
 
"None, thank God!"
 
Maynadier looked at him narrowly. "Why do you say, 'thank God!'"
 
"Because I do not want to suspect. I would rather lose half my fortune, than that a guest, in my house, should be suspected. If I had seen him actually take the money, I should do nothing to apprehend him—nor would I permit his apprehension."
 
"Why do you say 'him'—why do you think the thief is a man?" asked Maynadier.
 
"Because I cannot think it a woman. My God! Maynadier, you know these people better than I—could you think one of the women guilty?"
 
Maynadier shook his head. "No, I cannot; and neither can I think one of the men guilty. But,[Pg 216] since you will do nothing in the matter, why think about it at all? The party breaks in the morning, you will lose no more."
 
"It is not the loss that bothers me—it is the idea of having entertained a thief."
 
"Are you quite sure your first count was correct? Might not the money have been abstracted, by the pirate who carried it away? Is not that the normal explanation?"
 
Marbury was silent.
 
"Moreover, were the bags tied as you left them?"
 
"Precisely—at least, I saw no difference."
 
"And when you detected the loss from the first bag, did not you examine the tying of the other?"
 
"I did."
 
"And could you not have noted any difference—and evidence of haste?"
 
"There was no difference, and no evidence of haste. Everything was exactly as I left it, or it seemed to be."
 
"Then it lies between your own error, a guest, or a servant. With two chances to one, in favor of the guest, I should acquit the guest—and, particularly, when it marches with your own desires."
 
Marbury shook his head dubiously. "I do not want to suspect any one, and I will not. I would not prosecute even if I were sure of the thief; I would let him know that I knew, and do nothing more."
 
[Pg 217]
 
"In that view of it, is your course quite right to your friends—to those who are not here, as well as those who are?"
 
"You mean that I turn loose a thief among them?"
 
"I do."
 
"That does not bother me, Maynadier," said Marbury. "I have paid my loss, I am not lamenting. I have no friends to protect, except yourself, and you I have told."
 
Maynadier made no reply. He knew Marbury's way, and the uselessness of arguing the general good, and the duty one owes to society. Marbury would scorn to suspect a guest of crime, would refuse to prosecute if detected, yet he would do nothing to protect his fellow men from being victimized. It was a queer philosophy; but Marbury had been taught in a hard school, and early learned the lesson of self alone. To him, the doctrine of personal responsibility applied only to himself, his family, and his friends—further, it did not extend; and there was no obligation to society whatever. So far as he was concerned, society could look out for itself.
 
"I will tell you, if I observe anything," said Maynadier—"that is, if you wish it."
 
"Yes, please," said Marbury; "but tell no one else."
 
Maynadier encountered Miss Stirling in the hallway, with Herford in attendance. She met him[Pg 218] with a glad smile, dismissed the Captain with a wave of her hand, and attached him, instead.
 
And he suffered himself to be attached. If Judith would not have him, until it pleased her, he would, at least, entertain himself. He had no idea of making her jealous, but it was as well to take her advice, and let Miss Stirling give him some "instruction."
 
She led the way to a quiet corner of the drawing room, and, for more than an hour, he sat under fascinations such as he had never thought a woman possessed. It was the first good chance he had given her, and she utilized it to the full.
 
And, presently, he, too, caught a bit of the infection.
 
"You are outdoing yourself, this evening," he declared.
 
"In what way?" she asked, artlessly.
 
"In every way—in beauty."
 
"For which I am not responsible—it was given me," with demure modesty.
 
"In fascination," he continued.
 
"Which is cultivated, for what it will effect; no credit comes to me for it."
 
"All credit comes to you for it," he answered—"though I had rather believe it natural—it is too spontaneous to be otherwise."
 
"Merci, monsieur," and, arising, swept him a curtsy.
 
"No, I mean it!" he protested.
 
[Pg 219]
 
"Is not fascination equivalent to coquetry?" she asked.
 
"Fascination may include coquetry, it comprehends more, much more."
 
"For instance?"
 
"Ease of bearing, under all circumstances."
 
"You think I have that quality."
 
"To perfection, mademoiselle, to perfection."
 
"What else?"
 
"Knowledge of the world, and how to use it."
 
"And what else?" she asked, her hand straying slowly over until it lay just short of his own.
 
"Knowledge of men—and their eccentricities."
 
"Which might mean I am a flirt," she said.
 
He laughed softly, "Do you want me to say you are not a flirt?"
 
"No—not exactly," joining in the laugh; "but there are different sorts of flirts, you know, monsieur."
 
"The expert and the inexpert?"
 
"Yes—and the good and the bad, in a moral sense."
 
"I am endeavouring to praise you, mademoiselle," he said.
 
"I hope so—but," with a most enticing look, "one dare not take too much for granted."
 
"You could not, take too much," he replied, raising his hand in a gesture. When it came down it rested on hers.
 
She felt him start, slightly, but he let his hand[Pg 220] remain, and she, for her part, did not seem to notice.
 
It was a soft hand, and a small, with a faint perfume about it, with delicate fingers and slender wrist.—His own still lingered, hers was not withdrawn. Lightly he pressed it—no answer, save in silence. He knew now that she was drawing him on—would not rebuke him, unless he went too far. His fingers closed over hers in an unmistakable caress. She did not reprove him; instead, she gazed across the drawing-room, a dreamy light in her eyes.
 
"So you are going away, to-morrow," he said, his voice sinking lower than usual.
 
"Yes," she replied, "yes, to-morrow."
 
"I am sorry—very sorry—a little longer, and we might have been better friends."
 
"It is not my fault, monsieur, that we are not better—friends," she answered, her look still distant.
 
"Nor mine," he said.
 
She turned her eyes upon his face, with calm sincerity.
 
"It is God's fault, then," she responded. "So we have none to blame. But what is to hinder your coming to the Snowdens', there, we can begin afresh."
 
"Alas! I am for Annapolis in the morning," he said, bending down over her—"and shall be kept there for at least a week."
 
[Pg 221]
 
"Why go?" she whispered.
 
"I have no alternative: the Governor's summons, I must obey."
 
"Always the way—duty first."
 
"You would not have me shirk duty?" he asked.
 
She saw it was a false step, and beat a quick retreat.
 
"You know I would not," she said. "Did you forget, I, too, come of those who serve the King."
 
She was very alluring, in her gown of brocaded lustring, ruby-colored, with white tobine stripes, trimmed with floss, the high-piled hair, the fair face, the dark, expressive eyes, the bowed mouth, the slender neck. And he was not dead to beauty, so near and so yielding. He loosed, suddenly, the little hand, and wound his arm about her waist.
 
"Oh, monsieur!" she whispered, making slightly to get free.
 
He held her closer. "Nay," he said. "Why do you fear me?"
 
She ceased to struggle. "I fear—lest we be seen."
 
Her yielding body, held close to his own, the perfume, the lovely face upturned, gripped his senses—for an instant, discretion fled—he bent and kissed those full red lips.
 
And in that instant, Judith Marbury stood in the doorway, and saw it all. The next moment, she had vanished.
 
But Miss Stirling was not so occupied with [Pg 222]Maynadier, that she had not seen—and understood. She sprang away.
 
"Judith Marbury!" she exclaimed.
 
"Where?" he demanded, freeing her, instantly.
 
"There—in the doorway! She saw you kiss me!"
 
"The dev............