"Because, Grace," he said, "you especially asked me, after that affair of the missing suffragette, to finally give up my detective work and content myself with a quiet existence here on the farm. You said, on account of the boy, that I ought not to take such risks." "Well--suppose I did. You agreed with me, didn't you?" "Yes--I guess so." Duvall once more picked up the newspaper. "But, naturally, I can't help feeling a certain interest in any striking and novel case that I may read about." "And I haven't a doubt," laughed Grace, "that you wish that you were back in harness again a dozen times a day. Come now--'fess up. Don't you?" "Sometimes," granted her husband, with a smile. "You know I loved my work. It always seemed to take me out of the dull routine of existence, and give me a new feeling of interest. I shouldn't mind if I had a novel and interesting case to work on right now." "Would you take one, if it were offered to you?" asked Grace quickly. "No--I guess not. I haven't forgotten my promise." "Well--I've decided to release you from that, Richard. I really think you need a little mental exercise and diversion. All play and no work, you know----" She began to arrange the dogwood blossoms she had gathered before breakfast, in a big vase on the table. Duvall laughed. "I'm getting along very well," he said. "Don't forget I'm expecting to have that corner lot planted in potatoes to-day." He rose, and coming over to his wife, playfully pinched her cheek. "What's the matter, dear?" he asked. "Are you pining for a little trip to New York yourself? We don't need a murder mystery to make that possible, you know." Grace shook her head. As she did so, the telephone bell in the hall began to ring. "That may be your murder mystery now," she said, with a laugh. "More likely the Clarks asking us over to dinner this evening," he returned, as he made his way into the hall. Grace continued to arrange her flowers. Presently Duvall re-entered the room. There was a curious smile upon his face. "Well," Grace remarked, glancing up. "Which was it? The murder case, or the Clarks?" "Neither. A mysterious woman, this time, saying that she must see me at once. I told her to come on out." "Ah! This _is_ serious," his wife laughed. "A mysterious woman! I suppose I ought to be jealous. Didn't she say what she wanted with you?" "No. But we'll know soon enough. She'll be here at half past nine. Suppose we go and take a look at those Airedale pups." Together they crossed the veranda and made their way toward the barn.