"
"Just what do you mean?"
"Just why," begged Philip icily, "did you wish me to intrude further
upon the hospitality of Miss Westfall?"
"There was an errand," reminded the Baron blandly. "Having discharged
it myself, Poynter, I might--er--trust to you to report its
consequences. There are possibilities of confidences over a camp
fire--"
"You expected me to--spy upon Miss Westfall?"
"Even so.
"Pray believe," said Philip stiffly, "that any confidence of Miss
Westfall's would have been to me--as your own."
"I am to understand then," commented His Excellency suavely, "that you
made absolutely no effort--"
"You are to understand just that," said Philip quietly. "Moreover," he
manfully met his chief's level glance with one of inexorable decision,
"I sincerely regret that hereafter I shall be unable to discharge my
duties as your secretary."
The Baron stirred.
"I may be honored by your reasons, Poynter?" he inquired quietly.
"The duties of a spy," flashed Philip, "are peculiarly offensive to me.
So is Themar."
"Themar!"
"Excellency," said Philip curtly, "to-night as I entered, the lamplight
fell full upon the face and throat of your valet."
"Yes?"
"Themar's throat, Excellency, bears peculiar scars."
"My dear Poynter! Themar's fall injured him severely about the face
and hands.
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