"You will find a roll of money in the top drawer," she said. "Bring it over here." Pierre complied with her directions so speedily that she had but a second in which to secrete the paper. Taking the money from the chauffeur, she handed him a generous sum. "Be watchful, Pierre," she cautioned, as he put back the remainder of the bills in their place in the drawer. "Overlook nothing." "_Oui_, Madame." Pierre halted on his way to the hall door, struck by a sudden idea. "The nurse, Mees Ward--" "Well, what about her?" as he hesitated. "She plans to leave to-night." Mrs. Nash's color changed. "How do you know?" she demanded sharply. "I heard her telephone to Doctor Roberts to bring another nurse to take her place." Pierre explained, and then waited respectfully for her to address him. Mrs. Nash viewed the chauffeur in silence and then glanced about the sunny room. It seemed suddenly cold and bare to her. When she spoke her voice had altered to a shriller key. "As you go along the hall, Pierre, ask my niece to return," she directed, and closing her eyes she laid down again, one hand stroking, as if for companionship, the tongue of the brass bell. Miriam's walk along the Patuxent River finally brought her to a bridge connecting the highway, and she paused to rest on its parapet. It was a rolling country and she had walked up hill and down dale before striking the river bank. She had put on her high boots for cross-country walking, but she had not found the ground as soft as she anticipated, the snow of four days before having entirely vanished except in a few sheltered nooks and crannies. The view from the bridge diverted Miriam's thoughts, and she studied the panorama spread before her with interest. Perched high on a hill close at hand was a colonial mansion, its white pillars and gabled roof a fair landmark to be seen for miles, while toward the valley nearer the river, and obviously on the same estate, was a low building, the architecture of which suggested a church or chapel. Miriam was still speculating on her surroundings when she caught sight of a solitary horseman riding across the fields to her right. The man rode with the unmistakable seat of an American cavalryman, and horse and rider seemed one as they cleared the low fences and swung at last into the highway, headed for the bridge. As he crossed the bridge, Guy Trenholm checked his horse with such suddenness that a shower of mud bespattered Miriam, and his first words, instead of greeting, were an apology. "Have I ruined your coat?" he asked, in deep contrition, as he sprang to the ground. "A whisk-broom will remove the damage," Miriam replied lightly. "No, please don't try to rub it off!" as Trenholm drew out his handkerchief. "It must dry first. Where are you going in such a hurry?" "Not going--returning," he answered. "This is my bailiwick, that--" pointing in the direction from which he had come--"is Anne Arundel County, and my jurisdiction ends at the river's bank."