That brought the color up into her face. But she was not subdued; for the cat in woman also has nine lives--at least. "There's my horse," she said, with a toss of her head. "You saw him." "True! But cow ponies don't easily jump four-wire fences." "Why should they when the fences are down?" "Good! We arrive by the devious ways that women love. Perhaps you'll give me the answer now that you should have given in the first place. _How did you get in here?_" She bit her lip, reflected a moment, and attempted a flank movement. "My name is Marion Gaylord." "I knew that." "But you have never seen me before!" "No. But that's one of Huntington's horses, and Miss Gaylord is a guest at his house. You see, I am more courteous than you after all. I answer your questions." "Perhaps I'll answer yours when I know what right you have to ask them." A light began to dawn upon him. "Do you mean--you don't know where you are?" "No." He gave her a long, searching look before he spoke again. "My name is Philip Haig," he said, leaning forward with a curious smile. The result was all that he could have wished for. Until that moment she had remained seated, firm in her determination not to be disturbed by him. But now she rose slowly to her feet, her face reddening, her lips parted, a frightened look in her eyes. The shoe was on the other foot, with a vengeance. He saw all this, and without compunction, seized his advantage. With a grim smile he threw the reins over the pony's head, swung himself out of the saddle, and stepped toward her. As he came on he removed his dilapidated hat with a gesture that made her forget it was dilapidated,--a mocking, insolent gesture though it was. In spite of her embarrassment she let none of his features escape her quickening interest. She saw that he was tall, erect, alert; handsome in some strange and half-repellent way, with his pale dark face, rather long in contour, and with his black, curly hair matted on the broad forehead. But she almost recoiled when, on his drawing nearer, she saw for the first time--it had been hidden by the shadow of his slouched hat--an ugly scar that ran from the outer corner of his left eye down to the jawbone below the ear. It gave to one side of his face a singularly sinister expression that vanished when he turned and disclosed a profile that was not without nobility and charm.