"And where did you come from?" she demanded gayly. "We looked for you all about. Mamma and I came over on purpose to dine with you, and I brought a very especial dish, which I had all to myself. Still, we did miss you, and Miss Carroway has been urging us to send out a searching party." Frank shook hands with Mrs. Deane and Miss Carroway, apologizing for his absence and lateness. Then he turned to Constance, and together they passed down to the further end of the long veranda. Neither spoke until they were out of earshot of the others. Then the girl laid her hand gently on her companion's arm. "I have something to tell you," she began. "I came over on purpose--something I have been wanting to say a long time, only----" He interrupted her. "I know," he said; "I can guess what it is. That was why I did not come sooner. I came now because I have something to say to you. I did not intend to come at all, but then something happened and--I have changed my mind. I will only keep you a moment." His voice was not quite steady, but grave and determined, with a tone in it which the girl did not recognize. Her hand slipped from his arm. "Tell me first," he went on, "if you are quite sure that the mushrooms you brought for dinner--all of them--the yellow ones--are entirely harmless." Certainly this was an unexpected question. Something in the solemn manner and suddenness of it may have seemed farcical. For an instant she perhaps thought him jesting, for there was a note of laughter in her voice as she replied: "Oh, yes; quite certain. Those are the Cæsar mushrooms--food of the gods--I brought them especially for you. But how did you know of them?" He did not respond to this question, nor to her light tone. "Miss Deane," he went on, "I know perfectly well what you came here to say. I happened to be in the little grove of birches to-night when you landed with your mother and Robin Farnham, and I saw and heard what took place on the dock, almost before I realized that I was eavesdropping. Unfortunately, though I did not know it then, another saw and heard, as well, and the shock of it was such that it not only crushed her spirit but upset her moral balance for the time. You will know, of course, that I refer to Edith Morrison. She had to know, and perhaps no one is to blame for her suffering--and mine; only it seems unfortunate that the revelation should have come just as it did rather than in the gentler way which you perhaps had planned." He paused a moment to collect words for what he had to say next. Constance was looking directly at him, though her expression was lost in the dusk. Her voice, however, was full of anxiety. "There is a mistake," she began eagerly. "Oh, I will explain, but not now. Where is Edith? Tell me first what has happened to Edith."