fears, but the moment I saw him to-day, saw that he’d come back, I knew it was that, and tried to draw him out.  You heard what he said; there’s no doubt that Saffren stands in danger of some kind.  It may be inconsiderable, or even absurd, but it’s evidently imminent, and no matter what it is, Mrs. Harman must be kept out of it.  I want you to see her as soon as you can and ask her from me—­ no, persuade her yourself—­not to leave Quesnay for a day or two.  I mean, that she absolutely must not meet Mr. Saffren again until we know what all this means.  Will you do it?”

“That I will!” And she began hastily to get her belongings in marching order.  “I’ll do anything in the world you’ll let me—­and oh, I hope they can’t do anything to poor, poor Mr. Saffren!”

“Our sporting friend had evidently seen him with Mrs. Harman to-day,” I said.  “Do you know if they went to the beach again?”

“I only know she meant to meet him—­but she told me she’d be back at the chateau by four.  If I start now—­”

“Wasn’t the phaeton to be sent to the inn for you?”

“Not until six,” she returned briskly, folding her easel and strapping it to her camp-stool with precision.  “Isn’t it shorter by the woods?”

“You’ve only to follow this path to the second crossing and then turn to the right,” I responded.  “I shall hurry back to Madame Brossard’s to see Keredec—­and here”—­I extended my hand toward her traps, of which, in a neatly practical fashion, she had made one close pack—­“let me have your things, and I’ll take care of them at the inn for you.  They’re heavy, and it’s a long trudge.”

“You have your own to carry,” she answered, swinging the strap over her shoulder.  “It’s something of a walk for you, too.”

“No, no, let me have them,” I protested, for the walk before her was long and the things would be heavy indeed before it ended.

“Go your ways,” she laughed, and as my hand still remained extended she grasped it with her own and gave it a warm and friendly shake.  “Hurry!” And with an optimism which took my breath, she said, “I know you can make it come out all right!  Besides, I’ll help you!”

With that she turned and started manfully upon her journey.  I stared after her for a moment or more, watching the pretty brown dress flashing in and out of shadow among the ragged greeneries, shafts of sunshine now and then flashing upon her hair.  Then I picked up my own pack and set out for the inn.

Every one knows that the more serious and urgent the errand a man may be upon, the more incongruous are apt to be the thoughts that skip into his mind.  As I went through the woods that day, breathless with haste and curious fears, my brain became suddenly, unaccountably busy with a dream I had had, two nights before.  I had not recalled this dream on waking:  the recollection of it came to me now for the first time.  It was a usual enough dream, wandering and unlifelike, not worth the telling; and I had been thinking so constantly of Mrs. Harman that there was nothing extraordinary in her worthless ex-husband’s being part of it.