"With the greatest pleasure in the world," replied the doctor promptly, and stood aside to let her pass him. Whereupon she slipped by him, and before he could realise that she had gone was running fleetly away in the twilight down the winding, willow-hung path. With an exclamation he was off after her, but though he dashed at the pace of a hunter through the intricacies of the way he presently discovered that he was following nothing but the summer breeze rustling the willow leaves and wafting into his face the breath of new-cut hay, the aftermath of late July. He stopped at length and stared about him, baffled and half angry. "There never was a girl like you," he muttered. "If you are deliberately trying to make men mad to get you you are succeeding infuriatingly well. If I catch you to-night it will be your fault if I tell you what I think of you. I'll tell you now, for I suppose you are hiding somewhere in this undergrowth till I give it up and you can get away home. You shall listen to me if you are here, for you can't help yourself." He was speaking in a low, even tone, walking slowly along the path and peering sharply into the bushes on both sides. Suddenly he stood still. He had detected a spot beside a low-hanging willow which showed nearly white in the deepening darkness. Rachel was wearing white to-night, he remembered. His heart quickened its paces and he paused an instant to get past a certain tightening in his throat. Then he bent forward and whispered: "If that's not you there I can say what I like, and there'll be some satisfaction in that. If you'll speak now you may save yourself, but if you don't I've no reason to think it's you, and so I can say----" There was a sharply perceptible noise farther down the path toward the Redding home. Barnes turned quickly and stood up straight, waiting. Footsteps came rapidly along the path--no footsteps of hers, evidently. A man's voice humming a tune grew momentarily plainer--then the voice stopped humming and began to sing in a subdued but clear and fine barytone: "Down through the lane Come I again Seeking, my love, for you; Run to me, dear, Losing all fear, Love and----" The voice stopped. Two men's figures confronted each other in an extremely narrow path. It was not too dark yet for each to be plainly recognisable to the other. "Hallo--that you, Lockwood?" "Hi there, Roger Barnes; what you doing here? Fishing?" "Looking for something I've lost." "Getting pretty dark to find it. Something valuable?" "Rather. Think I'll give it up for to-night." "Too bad. Nice night." Lockwood was hastening toward the end of the path which came out near Anthony's house. Barnes looked after him grimly. "That voice of yours, young man," he thought, "handicaps me from the start. Now, if I could just warble my emotions that way----"