Coristine enjoyed the society of Miss Du Plessis; nevertheless he drove fast, for the business demanded haste.  The buggy returned in little over half an hour, and the bundle was handed to the detective, who took it up stairs, and, soon after, descended as a countryman, in flannel shirt, light soiled coat, and overalls.  The rim of his wideawake was drawn down all round, half hiding his face disguised with a ragged beard.  It could not conceal his refined, almost aristocratic, features, but such a country type is not uncommon in many parts of Canada, even accompanied with perfect boorishness.  His boots were small, which also was quite Canadian, but he had rubbed the blacking off, and trusted to the dust still further to disguise them.  Smiling and courteous, he bade everybody whom he could trust good-bye, and slipped a large pocket-book full of money and memoranda into the hands of the Squire.  “You can keep it till I come back,” he said; “if I don’t, get Mr. Errol and this lawyer chap, who seems a good fellow, to help you to make it out.”  Then, the dominie expressed his readiness to take the note to the post office, and Miss Du Plessis, a little piqued at Coristine’s apparent want of attention to her, said that, if Mr. Wilkinson had no objections, she should, above all things, like a short walk after a cramping drive.  The schoolmaster was only too delighted, in spite of Mr. Perrowne’s glance of jealousy, which Miss Halbert saw and noted with a tap of her dainty foot on the verandah.  So, Wilkinson and his inamorata tripped along the road, and, some distance behind them, shambled Simon Larkin, the hawbuck from away back, alias Mr. Nash.  The children came out to play, led by Marjorie.  Perrowne was still talking to Miss Halbert, Mr. Errol was closeted with the Squire, and the Captain and the veteran, on a garden bench, were telling yarns.  “Cousin Marjorie,” said her juvenile namesake, “we are going to play drop the handkerchief, because we’ve got such a lot of nice people to play it” Miss Carmichael answered:  “Oh no, Marjorie, try some other game.”  But Marjorie insisted.  So, a ring was formed, with Marjorie as handkerchief holder, outside.  The ring consisted of the Captain and little Susan Carruthers, Mr. Perrowne and Marjorie of the same family, Coristine and Miss Halbert, Mr. Terry, pipe and all, and Honoria junior, John Carruthers junior and Miss Carmichael, and baby Michael, but with whom?  Marjorie suggested the two aunties and Tryphosa, but finally concluded that there had to be an odd one any way, so baby Michael took the Captain’s hand and Miss Carmichael’s, and the game began.  Of course Marjorie dropped the handkerchief on her Eugene, and Eugene caught her and kissed her with great gusto.  Then he had to drop it, and Honoria saluted him with effusion.  Mr. Perrowne was her choice, and the parson, tell it not in Gath, the perfidious parson gave himself away on Miss Halbert, who captured him, blushed, and submitted.  The Captain and Mr. Terry were becoming