“But I didn’t put the whole house at your disposal!” she exclaimed with mock dismay. “But your good nurse did. She took me on a whirlwind voyage of discovery, and I discovered absolutely nothing——” “Not even the shoes?” Alma looked positively roguish now, and very alluring. “Not even the shoes,” Kee repeated. “Nor the Totem Pole. What became of that?” All Alma’s gayety fell away from her. She showed again that fear that so often darkened her eyes and clouded her brow. But she shrugged her shoulders lightly, and said, “Oh, it’s around somewhere—it must be.” “Never mind,” Kee said, kindly, “it doesn’t really matter.” “You saw the waistcoats?” “Yes, they were lying on the bed in the guest room. If you’re like my wife, you use the guest-room bed for a general temporary repository.” “Every woman does,” Alma smiled, but it was a pitiful little smile. More than ever I longed to capture her bodily and carry her off from this situation that was so rapidly growing worse. I knew Kee so well that I felt sure he had discovered far more than he disclosed, and my heart throbbed at thought of his possible future disclosures. We came away then, after a little more good-natured, chaffing banter between Alma and Keeley. Merry stood in the background. Her quick eyes darted from one to another of us, but her expression was one of satisfaction and content, and I realized that if Kee had found anything, Merry didn’t suspect it. He bade Alma good-bye in cordial, pleasant fashion, and I did the same. I could show my feelings in no way save to press her hand and gaze deeply into her eyes, and having accomplished this histrionic gesture, I turned to find Kee looking at me with full comprehension of the situation. I didn’t mind that, for he already knew I was in love with her, so, aside from a slight sheepish feeling, I was unembarrassed as I strode along by his side down to the dock. Old Merivale was ahead of us, to push us off, so Kee said nothing, but he nudged my elbow and pointed significantly to some footprints in the dust of the path. We were walking between some flower beds in preference to the gravel walk, and the prints were, in many instances, clear and distinct. They had been made by a small shoe, obviously a woman’s shoe, whose rubber sole showed little diamond-shaped dots. There could be no doubt about it. The prints were too plain to be mistaken by either of us. Keeley said no word, but he made sure I saw and understood their importance. I was sick at heart at the way things were going, but with an undercurrent of gladness that Alma had not repulsed my love. True, she had not definitely accepted it, either, but I was willing to bide my time. Old Merivale deftly assisted us into our craft and gave us a shove off. I rowed, at Keeley’s request. “Isn’t it your turn, lazybones?” I asked him. “No, you row,” he returned, in a preoccupied tone, and willingly enough I plied the oars.