The curtains, stirred by the breeze, tip-tapped softly; in the silence
the fire hissed gently. Pollen spoke first, but with some difficulty, as
if in the long period of listening on his part his throat had become
dry. "It's very interesting," he said; "very! But what's it all about?
And you certainly don't believe it, do you?"

"Of course I do," answered Burnaby calmly. "You should, too; it's true."

Mary Rochefort looked up with an exclamation. "Gracious!" she said. "I
had no idea it was so late! My motor must be waiting." She got to her
feet. She looked very white and her eyes were tired; the translucent
quality of the earlier hours was gone. "I'm worn out," she explained.
"I've been going about too much. I must rest." She held her hand out to
Mrs. Ennis; over her shoulder she spoke to Pollen. "No," she said.
"Don't bother. I'll take myself home, thanks."

"I'll see you to your car," he stammered.

She turned to Burnaby. "Good night!" she said. Her voice was lifeless,
disinterested; her eyes met his for an instant and were withdrawn.

"Good night," he said.

Mrs. Ennis stood by the door for a moment before she walked slowly back
to the fireplace. From the street outside came the whirring of a motor
and the sound of Mary Rochefort's voice saying good-by to Pollen.

Mrs. Ennis rested an arm on the mantelpiece and kicked a log
thoughtfully with a white-slippered foot; then she faced about on