Tempest to come right along and cheer her up. Don't you want to ask him, Jennifer?"
The understanding in Dick's grave smile pleased Jennifer this time.
"Slicker's got tact, hasn't he, Mrs. Ducane?" he said. "But Tempest talked of bringing me over some day. I'd be glad to take him your message that you could see us this afternoon."
The subtle flattery; the eager ring in the voice; Jennifer's dread of a long afternoon of Slicker's questions swayed her. She gave the invitation with more warmth than she knew, and Dick looked after her as the sleigh drew out of the yard. Slicker's round whistle piped up in the pathetic old Indian song:
"The sun shines bright on pretty Red-wing;"
and Dick, with the dazzle of Jennifer's hair yet in his eyes, drew his lips in. For he knew the end of that song.
"I was right in calling those Cenci eyes," he said. "She has a way of looking as though she had to look and was afraid of what she might show."
Jennifer asked one question as the sleigh flew over the level lake.
"What is he like that—Mr. Heriot?" she asked.
Slicker was young enough to believe that, being on the verge of manhood, he knew all that there was to know of men.
"Why, he's a real good sort," he said. "You'll like him, honey."
That afternoon Tempest learned some more concerning Dick, and it frightened him. For he read the cold-blooded purpose behind that courteous gallantry which had been Dick's heritage even at school. He saw Jennifer laugh and flush and brighten as talk of pictures and music went round, illumined by the light wit which Dick knew so well how to use when he chose. Molson's words came back to Tempest now with terrible meaning. Until this hour he had not foreseen the chance that Ducane's young wife might walk into a deeper trap than that laid for the betrayal of Ducane. The betrayal of Ducane? It was
