Nick's detective in San Francisco had no news; at all events no news with which he could be induced to part. "Wait a few days longer," he said. "That's the only favour I ask. Maybe by that time we shall both know where the poison-oak came from, who posted the box, who sent it, and why, and all the rest there is to know."

"Haven't you any suspicions yet?" Nick asked impatiently.

"I don't go so far as to say that."

"What—that you have, or you haven't?"

"That I haven't."

"You mean you do suspect some one?"

"Well, my mind's beginning to hover."

"Tell me where."

"No. I won't tell you that, Mr. Hilliard."

"You won't——"

"Not while I'm hovering. Not till there's something to light on. I may be doing an innocent person a big injustice."

And Nick could squeeze no more hints from Max Wisler. Herein lay one secret of the man's success; he had his own methods, and no one could persuade or bribe him to depart from them. This caused him to be respected. And Nick had to leave San Francisco with Mrs. Gaylor and Angela, tingling with unsatisfied curiosity. Mrs. May had forbidden him to speak to Carmen of the mysterious box, having grown sensitive on the subject. More than once she had asked herself if it were possible that some one very, very far away—some one whose photograph was in the Illustrated London News—hated her enough to do her an injury: some one she had believed to be completely indifferent in these days. The thing savoured of the Latin mind, she could not help thinking, rather than the Anglo-Saxon. Perhaps Princess di Sereno was not quite forgotten in Italy, after all. And Mrs. May could imagine a motive, for in San Francisco she had been able to find a duplicate of that illustrated paper. There were three photographs in it: one rather bad one of herself, taken years ago in Rome; one of Paolo, dressed as an aeronaut; and one of a certain handsome young woman, very becomingly dressed to accompany the Prince for a flight in his new aeroplane.

Angela was not happy in this expedition to the Gaylor ranch, though she reassured herself from time to time, by saying that it was better to accept than refuse the invitation; and she was to be Mrs. Gaylor's guest only for a day, part of another, and one night. Still, she was vaguely troubled. The warm consciousness of being surrounded by kindness which had made the California sunshine doubly bright, was chilled. This visit would be like other visits which she had made in the past, before she was "Mrs. May, whom nobody knows." In Rome, in Paris, in London, Princess di Sereno had been obliged sometimes to go to houses of women whom she disliked or distrusted, and to have them in hers. Such obligations had been part of the inevitable disagreeableness of daily existence for the wife of Paolo di Sereno; but going to Mrs. Gaylor was the first false note in the music of this free, new world. Angela consoled herself by thinking of Lucky Star Ranch. She would like to see Nick Hilliard's home.

"Simeon, she's here," said Carmen, in a low voice, to the old squirrel poisoner.

They stood together in the grove of bamboos, where they had talked about Nick, and about "old Grizzly Gaylor," on the May night when Nick was leaving for New York. Counting by time, that was not long ago. But Carmen's whole outlook on life was changed. She felt and looked years older.

"That's all right then, my lady," Simeon Harp answered. "The whole thing's all right. Don't you worry."

"Oh, I do worry. Every minute I'm in hell," she groaned. "Oh, Simeon, what will become of me?"

"You'll be happy, and marry the man you love, my lady," the old man soothed her, the red-rimmed eyes, which had once been handsome, sending out a faint gleam of the one emotion that still burned in the ashes of his wrecked soul: devotion to the woman who had saved his life, who had given him a roof and food, and—above all—drink.

"I can never be happy again, whatever happens," Carmen said, with anguish. "He loves some one else. He doesn't care for me."

"He'll learn to care. This slip of a thing that's come between you and 'im, my lady, will fly away out of his mind like a bit of thistledown. When I'm done with her—she's got rid of for good."

"Oh, but the horror of it—the getting rid of her! It don't weaken one bit, Simeon. I've brought her here for that, just that, and it shall be done. In some moods, for a minute or two, I rejoice in the thought of it. I want it. I'd even like to be there and see. Madame Vestris says that in my last incarnation I was a Roman Empress—that I used to go to the gladiator shows, and turn my thumb down, as a sign that the wounded ones who failed in the fight were to be killed by their conquerors in the arena. And that, once when I hated a Christian girl, I went to see her killed by lions. She—Madame Vestris—watched the whole scene in her crystal. Very likely it's true, what she says. I believe in her. She's wonderful. But I'm softer in this incarnation than in the last, I guess. It frightens me and turns me sick when I think how I shall dream and wake up nights afterward—even if I'm married to Nick. Oh, it's awful! But it's the only way. He was meant for me! He's mine. She'll have to go. And I don't care how much I suffer, if only I have him for my husband in the end."

"You'll have him," said Simeon Harp. "It's going to be. And there ain't no need for you to dream bad dreams. You ain't doing the thing. It's me. It was me thought of it. It's me who'll carry it out."

"Supposing you fail?" she whispered.

"I won't, if you'll do your part. Just the little part, my lady; we can't get on without your doin'. You send her there, to the right place; that's all. For the rest you can count on me."

"Oh!" Carmen shuddered, and put her hands before her face. "To think it's for to-day—to-day! If only the other thing had gone through all right, and she'd been made so hideous that he couldn't look at her, this horror might have been saved. I'd have wanted no more. Once he'd seen her face, that he thinks so angelic, red, and swollen and hardly human, he could never have felt the same toward her again. And it wouldn't have hurt her much in the end. But evidently she isn't the kind that's affected by that stuff. I know there are some who aren't. Those two haven't spoken about the box to me, Simeon. I was afraid at first Nick might suspect, and be watching. But that's nonsense, of course. And she wouldn't be here now if the idea had crossed his mind."

"Nobody'll ever know," said Simeon. "I went such a long way. I changed trains three times and walked miles in between. Besides, when I posted the box I was wearin' something different from what I ever wear here. I was another man to look at."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure you did your part well," Carmen said quickly. "It was Fate interfered. I felt it would. All the cards near me were black just then. I don't know what I should do without you, Simeon—good old watch-dog! You shall be rich the rest of your life if you win me happiness."

"I've got all I want," the squirrel poisoner answered. "It's a pleasure to me to serve you. You don't need to offer no rewards, except to keep me near you, my lady, and give me my bite and sup. You ought to know that by this time—anyhow since a year ago."

"I know! And you're clever, as well as faithful. I should never have thought of as good a way as—as this. No one could possibly prove it was anything but an accident. Did you—see her, Simeon?"

"Yes; I wasn't far off when Nick's big yeller automobile spilt you both out at the door. To my idea, she ain't nothing to you. I was never one for blondes."

"If you could see Nick's eyes when he looks at her! Those are the times when I feel like the Roman Empress. I was glad he wouldn't stay to lunch. Though I asked, I don't think I could have stood having him. I'd have done something desperate, maybe, and spoilt everything. She's lying down now. I made her promise she would till half an hour before lunch. Nick's coming for us, with his auto, at five. He wanted it to be earlier, but I told him she was tired, and it would be too hot for her to walk around Lucky Star in the glare, where there aren't any trees. It's all got to happen and be over with before five, Simeon. She'll never see Nick's ranch she talks so much of." Again Carmen shivered, and her eyes were wide and staring, curiously glazed. She knew that she was looking almost plain to-day, and had been actually terrified by her own face in the glass before she came out to keep the appointment with Simeon Harp. But it did not matter what she looked like before Simeon. When Nick came and saw her again next time there would be reason why he would have no eyes for her. And later, when all this was over, she would come back into her beauty again. She must!

"What time are you having lunch, my lady?" Simeon inquired in a matter-of-fact tone, his harsh voice sounding just as usual.

"At one."

"And you'll send her out?"

"At half-past two."

"Right, my lady. That'll bring her to the place I want about three or a little after."

"Yes. You're sure nothing can go wrong?"

"Sure as ever I was about a squirrel."

"Oh!" Carmen shivered, and turning away from him without another word she went back to the house.

No one had seen them talking together; and even if they had been seen it would not have mattered. Mrs. Gaylor often chatted with the old squirrel poisoner, who was known to be devoted to her; a harmless creature who hurt nobody—except himself and the squirrels.