"God knows I don't." He spoke, as it seemed, almost on the verge of tears. "Then never, never--do you hear?--think or mention such a thing again. Promise me." "I won't, so help me--" "That 'll do; that's right. Now be sensible and get these skis off, so I can walk to the house like a woman instead of a penguin." "You ain't goin' to lay it up against me?" he pleaded, as we neared the house. "No, of course not; only, remember, you 're under oath. I mean all this." I nodded at him gravely. "An' I mean it too; you won't have nothing to complain of so fur as I 'm concerned." "Dear old Cale!" I whispered to him as I entered the house, where I found Jamie in a state of suppressed excitement for I had given him no opportunity to advance his theories about what he had heard the night before from Cale. "I say, Marcia, come on into the office and let's talk; the Doctor is in the living-room, writing for all he is worth." "I can't; I 'm busy." At which he went off in a huff. XXII "Let me take your mail out to little Pete," I said to the Doctor, who was superscribing his last letter, when I came in from the morning's sport. "Thanks, very much." He spoke abstractedly; ran over the addresses on several envelopes and handed them to me. I could not help seeing that the one on top was addressed to Delia Beaseley. I fancy he intended I should see it. I felt sure he had written to her for some of the forgotten details of that night in December more than twenty-six years ago. "He's on the track of that child--me! Cale's story has given him the clew," I said to myself, on noticing his absorption in his own thoughts during dinner and his preoccupation in the afternoon. In the evening he drove over with Cale to meet Mr. Ewart. I rather enjoyed the course events were taking; it would interest me to watch developments of the Doctor's detective work. In a way, it had all the fascination of a drama of which I felt myself no longer to be an actor, but a spectator. Jamie cornered me, after the Doctor and Cale drove off to the junction. "No, you don't!" he said, laughing, as he extended his long arms across the doorway of the living-room to bar my exit. "You will act like a Christian and love your neighbor as yourself this time. Sit down and talk--or I sha'n't be able to finish my last chapter." Of course I sat down, knowing perfectly well what I was about to hear--at least, I thought I did. "Marcia--" "Yes?" "The more I think of it, the more I am convinced that what Cale told us, and what Doctor Rugvie told us, are two acts in a long drama--tragedy, if you like." "Well?" "You _are_ cool, I must say!" He spoke with irritation. "Do you mean to tell me that life, presented in such a manner as those two men--opposite as the poles in standing--presented it, does n't interest you?" "I have n't the imagination of genius, Jamie."