It was while he thus pondered his affairs that Shirley, walking over the soft lawn from a neighboring estate, came suddenly upon him.

Her head went up with surprise and—­he was sure—­with disdain.  She stopped abruptly as he jumped to his feet.

“I am caught—­in flagrante delicto!  I can only plead guilty and pray for mercy.”

“They said—­they said you had gone to Mexico?” said Shirley questioningly.

“Plague take the newspapers!  How dare they so misrepresent me!” he laughed.

“Yes, I read those newspaper articles with a good deal of interest.  And my brother—­”

“Yes, your brother—­he is the best fellow in the world!”

She mused, but a smile of real mirth now played over her face and lighted her eyes.

“Those are generous words, Mr. Armitage.  My brother warned me against you in quite unequivocal language.  He told me about your match-box—­”

“Oh, the cigarette case!” and he held it up.  “It’s really mine—­and I’m going to keep it.  It was very damaging evidence.  It would argue strongly against me in any court of law.”

“Yes, I believe that is true.”  And she looked at the trinket with frank interest.

“But I particularly do not wish to have to meet that charge in any court of law, Miss Claiborne.”

She met his gaze very steadily, and her eyes were grave.  Then she asked, in much the same tone that she would have used if they had been very old friends and he had excused himself for not riding that day, or for not going upon a hunt, or to the theater: 

“Why?”

“Because I have a pledge to keep and a work to do, and if I were forced to defend myself from the charge of being the false Baron von Kissel, everything would be spoiled.  You see, unfortunately—­most unfortunately—­I am not quite without responsibilities, and I have come down into the mountains, where I hope not to be shot and tossed over a precipice until I have had time to watch certain people and certain events a little while.  I tried to say as much to Captain Claiborne, but I saw that my story did not impress him.  And now I have said the same thing to you—­”

He waited, gravely watching her, hat in hand.

“And I have stood here and listened to you, and done exactly what Captain Claiborne would not wish me to do under any circumstances,” said Shirley.

“You are infinitely kind and generous—­”

“No.  I do not wish you to think me either of those things—­of course not!”

Her conclusion was abrupt and pointed.

“Then—­”

“Then I will tell you—­what I have not told any one else—­that I know very well that you are not the person who appeared at Bar Harbor three years ago and palmed himself off as the Baron von Kissel.”

“You know it—­you are quite sure of it?” he asked blankly.

“Certainly.  I saw that person—­at Bar Harbor.  I had gone up from Newport for a week—­I was even at a tea where he was quite the lion, and I am sure you are not the same person.”