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 canvas against the wall, broke the silence.

"Well," he asked, "what is it? An invitation to tea with the Ruggleses? Or has some fair unknown fallen captive to my charms and begged you to intercede in her behalf?"

"No," answered Miles, quietly. "It's just—just a note."

He dropped it into his pocket and turned silently to the window. Hunter viewed him curiously. Presently Miles turned, took his cap from the table, and passed out. Hunter watched him leave the garden and turn westward along the road. Bistre, left on the wrong side of the door, whined dolefully.

"No, you stay here, old chap," said his master. "I don't believe you're wanted this time." He thrust his big hands into his pockets and scowled