in his path, and whistled to the dipping jays.  In this way he quite forgot the more serious affairs of the preceding night, or, rather, saw them only in the gilding of the morning, until, looking up, he perceived the tall figure of Demorest approaching him; and then it struck him with his first glance at his old partner’s face that his usual suave, gentle melancholy had been succeeded by a critical cynicism of look and a restrained bitterness of accent.  Barker’s loyal heart smote him for his own selfishness; Demorest had been hard hit by the discovery of the forgery and Stacy’s concern in it, and had doubtless passed a restless night, while he (Barker) had forgotten all about it.  “I thought of knocking at your door, as I passed,” he said, with sympathetic apology, “but I was afraid I might disturb you.  Isn’t it glorious here?  Quite like the old hill.  Look at that lizard; he hasn’t moved since he first saw me.  Do you remember the one who used to steal our sugar, and then stiffen himself into stone on the edge of the bowl until he looked like an ornamental handle to it?” he continued, rebounding again into spirits.

“Barker,” said Demorest abruptly, “what sort of woman is this Mrs. Van Loo, whose rooms I occupy?”

“Oh,” said Barker, with optimistic innocence, “a most proper woman, old chap.  White-haired, well-dressed, with a little foreign accent and a still more foreign courtesy.  Why, you don’t suppose we’d”—­

“But what is she like?” said Demorest impatiently.

“Well,” said Barker thoughtfully, “she’s the kind of woman who might be Van Loo’s mother, I suppose.”

“You mean the mother of a forger and a swindler?” asked Demorest sharply.

“There are no mothers of swindlers and forgers,” said Barker gravely, “in the way you mean.  It’s only those poor devils,” he said, pointing, nevertheless, with a certain admiration to a circling sparrow-hawk above him, “who have inherited instincts.  What I mean is that she might be Van Loo’s mother, because he didn’t Select her.”

“Where did she come from? and how long has she been here?” asked Demorest.

“She came from abroad, I believe.  And she came here just after you left.  Van Loo, after he became secretary of the Ditch Company, sent for her and her daughter to keep house for him.  But you’ll see her to-day or to-morrow probably, when she returns.  I’ll introduce you; she’ll be rather glad to meet some one from abroad, and all the more if he happens to be rich and distinguished, and eligible for her daughter.”  He stopped suddenly in his smile, remembering Demorest’s lifelong secret.  But to his surprise his companion’s face, instead of darkening as it was wont to do at any such allusion, brightened suddenly with a singular excitement as he answered dryly, “Ah well, if the girl is pretty, who knows!”