"They don't look very artistic, I must say," returned Gayne. "Of course, I'm an amateur of the amateurs," he went on, picking up the portfolio (he pronounced it _amatoor_), "but a man is all the better for having a fad, no matter how footless. Since you are here and have caught me red-handed, you may as well know the worst." He opened the portfolio and threw down a couple of crayon sketches of woods, water, and rocks. "But these are good!" exclaimed Mrs. Lowell, in a tone of such astonishment that it could scarcely be considered complimentary. Gayne shrugged his shoulders, as Diana, looking over her friend, added her approval. "I make no pretensions," he repeated. "I amuse myself." His guests lingered a minute over the sketches, then looked about the forlorn old homestead, but as each step was closely accompanied by Gayne, they soon took their departure, passing the stranger on his knoll as they walked toward the sea, over grassy hill and fragrant spruce-filled hollow. The stranger, as they passed, kept his hands folded behind him and stared stolidly ahead. "Were you ever more astonished?" asked Mrs. Lowell in a low tone as if the balsamic breeze could carry her words back. "Your suspicion that the man is sailing under false colors seems to be incorrect," replied Diana. "He's a rascal!" declared Mrs. Lowell with conviction. "Artists often are, I believe," returned Diana. "I wish with all my heart I could know what he and his visitor will talk about during the next half-hour, and what that pick and shovel meant. Why was he so sorry to see us?" Mrs. Lowell's brows drew together in perplexity. "Perhaps they are going to search for smugglers' treasures, or pirate gold," suggested Diana. Her companion smiled. "Perhaps so. The man has some reason for promoting the foolish ghost talk and resenting visitors to his preserves. Of course, the treasure idea is as foolish as the phantoms, and just as little likely to fool a modern man in his senses." Diana shook her head. "It is certainly rather irritating to have him assume jurisdiction over that ruin which is open and free to all," she said. "I dislike his personality extremely, but his pencil has a sure touch and those sketches showed an appreciation of values." "If he did them," said Mrs. Lowell thoughtfully. Diana smiled. "You surely are consistent." Her companion drew a deep breath. "A man who can treat that fragile, sensitive, lonely boy as he does--his own brother's son at that--can plan to crush him and sweep him out of his way as he would an insect--that man is dangerously wicked, and so long as the matter has come to my notice, I must share in the responsibility." "He would be a merciless enemy," said Diana warningly. Mrs. Lowell shook her head. "I shall pray for the wisdom of the serpent and the harmlessness of the dove," she said. CHAPTER VII ANOTHER WOUND