“Stay here a few minutes, Poictiers,” he directed. “I’m going to follow him and see if he goes straight back to Highmount.” “Joy go with you,” said Carfax; and when he was left alone he went to sit on the step of the tool-house to smoke while he waited. XV Mammy Ann’s Grave Carfax was smoking his third cigarette when Tregarvon returned from spying upon the retreating professor and sat down in sober silence upon the door-step. The smoker waited patiently for some little time before he said suggestively: “I hope you didn’t have your walk for nothing.” “I saw all I needed to see.” “Hartridge went to the college?” “I suppose so; he was headed that way when I turned back.” Carfax waited again, and when nothing further was forthcoming: “It’s a remarkably beautiful night, isn’t it? Did you ever see a handsomer moon?” “Don’t make me talk!” was the irritable rejoinder. “You’ll be sorry for it if you do.” “Try me and see.” “Well, then--if you will have it: there was a witness to our little comedy out there under the derrick.” “Some one who came with Hartridge?” “I guess so. Some one who went back with him, at any rate.” “Who was it?” “I hate to tell you, Poictiers. It was--it was the woman you are going to marry; Richardia Birrell.” Carfax laughed softly. “I don’t see why you need be so desperately gloomy because it happened to be Richardia. As I remarked a moment ago, the night is jewel fine, and I don’t wonder that she found it hard to stay indoors. And as to my rights in the matter, I am far from denying her the privilege of walking abroad with so old a friend as Mr. William W. Hartridge.” “You are trying to make a jest of it, as you do of everything,” was the crabbed retort. “Don’t you see what it means?” “I must confess that I don’t see anything especially catastrophic about it.” “You don’t? Why, good heavens, man! it means that Richardia knows what Hartridge has been doing. I won’t admit yet that she is a party to it; but she _knows_!” “_Place aux dames_,” said Carfax cheerfully. “We’ll give her the benefit of the doubt; it’s our clear duty--or, at least, it is mine.” “No, I’ll be hanged if we do!” Tregarvon growled. “There isn’t even a doubt where she is concerned!” Carfax threw the half-burnt cigarette away and lighted another. “Your tone is that of the still deeply infatuated lover. Must we again come back to that phase of it?” he inquired, in the tone of the long-suffering but still amiable bystander. The man beside him took plenty of time to consider. But when he opened the flood-gates there was a torrent of self-accusings to pour out.