It looked as if it was going to be a repetition of one of those evenings in the past before they had "known how to do things," when Fong caused a diversion by appearing from the dining room bearing a tray. To regale evening visitors with refreshments had been the fashion in Fong's youth, so in his old age the habit still persisted. He entered with his friendly grin and set the tray on a table beside Lorry. On it stood decanters of red and white wine, glasses, a pyramid of fruit and a cake covered with varicolored frosting. Nobody wanted anything to eat, but they turned to the tray with the eagerness of shipwrecked mariners to an oyster bed. Even Aunt Ellen became animated, and looking at Mark over her glasses said: "Have you been away, Mr. Burrage?" No, Mr. Burrage had been in town, very busy, and, the hungriest of all the mariners, he turned to the tray and helped Lorry pour out the wine. The ladies would take none, so the filled glass was held out to Mayer. "Claret!" he said, leaning forward to offer the glass. As he did so he was aware of a slight, curious expression in the face he had disliked. The eyelids twitched, the upper lip drew down tight over the teeth, the nostrils widened. It was a sudden contraction and then flexing of the muscles, an involuntary grimace, gone almost as soon as it had come. With murmured thanks, Mayer stretched his hand and took the wine. It had all come back with the offered glass. A glance shot round the little group showed him that no one had noticed; they were cutting and handing about the cake. He refused a piece and found his stiffened lips could smile, but he was afraid of his voice, and sipped slowly, forcing the wine down the contracted passage of his throat. Then he stole a look at Mark, clumsily steering a way between the chairs to Aunt Ellen who wanted some grapes. The fellow hadn't guessed--hadn't the faintest suspicion--it was incredible that he should have. It was all right but--he raised his hand to his cravat, felt of it, then slipped a finger inside his collar and drew it away from his neck. Through a blurred whirl of thought he could hear Aunt Ellen's voice. "I've wanted to see you for a long time, Mr. Burrage. You come from that part of the country and I thought you'd know." Then Mark's voice: "Know what, Mrs. Tisdale?" "About that Knapp man's story. Didn't you tell us your ranch was up near the tules where those bandits buried the gold?" Lorry explained. "Aunt Ellen's been so excited about that story, she couldn't talk of anything else." "And why not?" said Aunt Ellen. "It's a very unusual performance. Two sets of thieves, one stealing the money and burying it and another coming along and finding it." Chrystie, diverted from her private worries by this exciting subject, bounced round toward Mark with something of her old explosiveness.