She lay partly reclining in the bow of the canoe, her back supported by a pillow. A meditative silence enshrouded her as she lay listless, unconcerned to all appearances, as to her whereabouts or destination. The while she thought, the more steadily she gazed at the waters as she splashed them gently and playfully. Like a caress the silence of the place descended upon her, and brought home to her the full import of her loneliness. "In view of what you have disclosed to me, I think it only my duty," Stephen replied as he lazily stroked the paddle. Again there was silence. "I wish you weren't going," she finally murmured. He looked straight at her, holding his arm motionless for the space of a moment. "It is good of you to say that," was the measured reply. "This has been a most delightful day, and I have enjoyed this glimpse of you very much." Raising her eyes she thanked him with a look. "You must remember that it has been due to no fault of mine that I have seen so little of you," he continued. "Nor mine," came back the whisper. "True," he said. "Events have moved so rapidly during the past month that I was enabled to keep abreast of them only with the greatest difficulty." "I daresay we all are proud of your achievement." "God has been good to us. I must thank you, too." "Me?" She grinned with contempt. "I am sure when the truth is known that I shall be found more an instrument of evil than of good." "I wish you would not say that." "I cannot say otherwise, for I know it to be true." "Do not depreciate your efforts. They have been invaluable to me. Remember, it was you who greatly confirmed my suspicions of Anderson. I did acquire some facts myself; but it was due to the information which you imparted to me that I was enabled to join together several ambiguous clews." "Really?" "And you must remember that it was through your cooperation that my attention was first drawn to General Arnold." "You suspected him before our conversation. You, yourself, heard it from his own lips in the garden." "Yes, I did. But the note!" "What note?" "The note you gave me to read." "Peggy's letter which I found at her house?" "The same. Have I never told you?" "Never!" was the slow response. "You know you returned it to me without comment." He was puzzled. For he wondered how he had failed to acquaint her with so important an item. "When you allowed me to take that letter you furnished me with my first clew." She aroused herself and looked seriously at him. "I?... Why.... I never read it. What did it contain? I had supposed it to be a personal letter." "And so it was,--apparently. It proved to be a letter from one of Peggy's New York friends." "A Mischienza friend, undoubtedly." "Yes, Captain Cathcart. But it contained more. There was a cipher message." "In cipher?" Then after a moment. "Did she know of it?" "I am inclined to think that she did. Otherwise it would not have been directed to her."