As Lawrence Croft walked down Pine Top Hill his mind was in a good deal of a hubbub. The mind of almost any lover would be stirred up if he came fresh from an interview, in which his lady had pinned him, to use a cruel figure, in various places on the wall to see how he would spin and buzz in different lights. But the disdainful pin had not yet gone through a vital part of Lawrence's hopes, and they had strength to spin and buzz a good deal yet. As soon as he should have an opportunity he would rack his brains to find out what it was that had put Roberta March into such a strange humor. No one who simply desired to decline the addresses of a gentleman would treat her lover as Miss March had treated him. It was quite evident that she wished to punish him. But what had been his crime? But the immediate business on his hands was to go and see what man it was who wished to see him. Ordinarily the fact that a man had called upon him would not be considered by Lawrence a matter for cogitation, but as he walked toward the house it seemed to him very odd that any one should call upon him in such an out-of-the-way place as this, where so few people knew him to be. He was not a business man, but a large portion of his funds were invested in a business concern, and it might be that something had gone wrong, and that a message had been sent him. His address at the Green Sulphur Springs was known, and the man in charge there knew that he was visiting Mrs Keswick. These considerations made him a little anxious, and helped to keep his mind in the hubbub which has been mentioned. When he reached the front of the house, Lawrence saw a lean, gray horse tied to a tree, and a man sitting upon the porch; and as soon as he made his appearance the latter came down the steps to meet him. "I didn't go into the house, sir," he said, "because I thought you'd just as lief have a talk outside." "What is your business?" asked Croft. The man moved a few steps farther from the house, and Lawrence followed him. "Is it anything secret you have to tell me?" he asked. "Well, yes, sir, I should think it was," replied the other, a tall man, with sandy hair and beard, and dressed in a checkered business suit, which had lost a good deal of the freshness of its early youth. "I may as well tell you at once who I am. I am an anti-detective. Never heard of that sort of person, I suppose?" "Never," said Lawrence, curtly.