Mrs. Bell came out of the house swiftly toward us.  Some strong excitement or anxiety seemed to possess her, but she smiled a faint hostess smile, and tried to keep her voice calm.

“The dew is falling,” she said, “and it’s growing rather late.  Wouldn’t you gentlemen rather come into the house?”

Bell took some cigars from his pocket and answered:  “It’s most too fine a night to turn in yet.  I think Mr. Ames and I will walk out along the road a mile or so and have another smoke.  I want to talk with him about some goods that I want to buy.”

“Up the road or down the road?” asked Mrs. Bell.

“Down,” said Bell.

I thought she breathed a sigh of relief.

When we had gone a hundred yards and the house became concealed by trees, Bell guided me into the thick grove that lined the road and back through them toward the house again.  We stopped within twenty yards of the house, concealed by the dark shadows.  I wondered at this maneuver.  And then I heard in the distance coming down the road beyond the house, the regular hoofbeats of a team of horses.  Bell held his watch in a ray of moonlight.

“On time, within a minute,” he said.  “That’s George’s way.”

The team slowed up as it drew near the house and stopped in a patch of black shadows.  We saw the figure of a woman carrying a heavy valise move swiftly from the other side of the house, and hurry to the waiting vehicle.  Then it rolled away briskly in the direction from which it had come.

I looked at Bell inquiringly, I suppose.  I certainly asked him no question.

“She’s running away with George,” said Bell, simply.  “He’s kept me posted about the progress of the scheme all along.  She’ll get a divorce in six months and then George will marry her.  He never helps anybody halfway.  It’s all arranged between them.”

I began to wonder what friendship was, after all.

When we went into the house, Bell began to talk easily on other subjects; and I took his cue.  By and by the big chance to buy out the business in Mountain City came back to my mind and I began to urge it upon him.  Now that he was free, it would be easier for him to make the move; and he was sure of a splendid bargain.

Bell was silent for some minutes, but when I looked at him I fancied that he was thinking of something else—­that he was not considering the project.

“Why, no, Mr. Ames,” he said, after a while, “I can’t make that deal.  I’m awful thankful to you, though, for telling me about it.  But I’ve got to stay here.  I can’t go to Mountain City.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Missis Bell,” he replied, “won’t live in Mountain City, She hates the place and wouldn’t go there.  I’ve got to keep right on here in Saltillo.”

“Mrs. Bell!” I exclaimed, too puzzled to conjecture what he meant.