And she had her wish. After some fifteen or twenty minutes of slow progress, she caught sight of a small red-brown châlet, somewhat above the path. In front of it, side by side, two figures were seated,—a man and a girl—deep in talk. She drew instantly back out of sight. They had not noticed her, and they should not! "So—that is it!" she ejaculated. And again—"Really, how deceitful! One would have thought they knew better. Above all things, I do detest underhand ways." She felt that, for the unearthing of such a conspiracy, any methods were admissible. The dear young doctor had become many degrees less delightful, though she was disposed to lay chief blame on Doris. When the girl rejoined her an hour later, she asked no questions, made no remarks. But next morning, having risen with unusual promptitude, she was the first to vanish, making her way briskly to the small châlet. Did they always come here? Was it a daily trysting-place? If not, her trouble might be thrown away. If they did come — she hardly knew what she would do. Her first idea was to seat herself on the farther side of the châlet, where she would be hidden as they approached, and then casually to walk out on them. But as she debated, she noticed the châlet-door to be ajar; and she went in. Rough flooring under her feet; rough beams overhead; some upright beams also, supporting the roof; and at one side what she took for a manger. That was all. Not a bad place in which to sit, and quietly to hear what might go on outside. This thought came; and she put the door quickly to. She had not quite made up her mind; but she dwelt upon the possibility. And if a little voice whispered the words which she had been using about others,—"deceitful," and "underhand,"—she put them aside. Doris was in her charge, and surely it was her duty to find out what the girl was after. Voices sounded, drawing near. Too late now for the other plan. She could wait here, however, just for a minute—and then make her presence known. She moved softly close to the wall, on the other side of which they would sit, if they did not pass on. And they did not. It was a lovely spot. They believed themselves to be alone, beyond sight and hearing of all other human beings. Thirty or forty yards below lay a fringe of shrubs and low trees; and the Rhone valley beyond was nearly hidden. Just in front stood boldly forth the great sweep of rocky heights, hard and grey, jagged and seamed. Lines of strata might there be studied, upright and horizontal, curved and twisted, telling of long-past pressure and moulding, perhaps also of great cataclysmic upheavals, in the shaping of these mountains. The vast rock-range, one of Nature's "out crops," rose high above softer grass-green alps, dotted with hay-châlets.