"I was told by Lawyer Maxwell," said Gabriel slowly, without raising his eyes, and only dimly cognisant of the slight, strong, elegant figure before him--"I was told that Mr. Arthur Poinsett reckoned to see me to-day at eleven o'clock--so I came. Be you Mr. Poinsett?" (Gabriel here raised his eyes)--"be you, eh?--GOD A'MIGHTY! why, it's--eh?--why--I want to know!--it can't be!--yes, it is!" He stopped--the recognition was complete! Arthur did not move. If he had expected an outburst from the injured man before him he was disappointed. Gabriel passed his hard palm vaguely and confusedly across his forehead and through his hair, and lifted and put back behind his ears two tangled locks. And then, without heeding Arthur's proffered hand, yet without precipitation, anger, or indignation, he strode toward him, and asked calmly and quietly, as Arthur himself might have done, "Where is Grace?" "I don't know," said Arthur, bluntly. "I have not known for years. I have never known her whereabouts, living or dead, since the day I left her at a logger's house to return to Starvation Camp to bring help to _you_." (Arthur could not resist italicising the pronoun, nor despising himself for doing it when he saw that the full significance of his emphasis touched the man before him.) "She was gone when I returned; where, no one knew! I traced her to the Presidio, but there she had disappeared." Gabriel raised his eyes to Arthur's. The impression of nonchalant truthfulness which Arthur's speech always conveyed to his hearer, an impression that he did not prevaricate because he was not concerned sufficiently in his subject, was further sustained by his calm, clear eyes. But Gabriel did not speak, and Arthur went on-- "She left the logger's camp voluntarily, of her own free will, and doubtless for some reason that seemed sufficient to her. She abandoned me--if I may so express myself--left my care, relieved me of the responsibility I held towards her relatives"--he continued, with the first suggestion of personal apology in his tones--"without a word of previous intimation. Possibly she might have got tired of waiting for me. I was absent two weeks. It was the tenth day after my departure that she left the logger's hut." Gabriel put his hand in his pocket and deliberately drew out the precious newspaper slip he had once shown to Olly. "Then thet thar 'Personal' wozent writ by you, and thet P. A. don't stand for Philip Ashley?" asked Gabriel, with a hopeless dejection in his tone. Arthur glanced quickly over the paper, and smiled. "I never saw this before," he said. "What made you think _I_ did it?" he asked curiously. "Because July--my wife that was--said that P. A. meant you," said Gabriel, simply. "Oh! _she_ said so, did she?" said Arthur, still smiling. "She did. And ef it wasn't you, who was it?"