"It is horribly tangled," he admitted, hoping thus to escape.

"No matter. You hold the ball. I'll untangle it. I never saw a fish-line I

could not straighten out."

Nora laughed. It was not possible for her to repress the sound. Her sense

of humor was too strong in this case to be denied its release in laughter.

It was free of the subtler emotions; frank merriment, no more, no less.

And possessing the hunter's extraordinarily keen ear, Courtlandt

recognized the quality; and the weight of a thousand worlds lightened its

pressure upon his heart. And the Barone laughed, too. So there they were,

the three of them. But Nora's ineffectual battle for repression had driven

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her near to hysteria. To escape this dire calamity, she flung open a

casement window and stood within it, breathing in the heavy fragrance of

the rain-laden air.

This little comedy had the effect of relaxing them all; and the laughter

became general. Abbott's smile faded soonest. He stared at his friend in

wonder not wholly free from a sense of evil fortune. Never had he known

Courtlandt to aspire to be a squire of dames. To see the Barone hold the

ball as if it were hot shot was amusing; but the cool imperturbable manner

with which Courtlandt proceeded to untangle the snarl was disturbing. Why

the deuce wasn't he himself big and strong, silent and purposeful, instead

of being a dawdling fool of an artist?

No answer came to his inquiry, but there was a knock at the door. The

managing director handed Harrigan a card.

"Herr Rosen," he read aloud. "Send him up. Some friend of yours, Nora;

Herr Rosen. I told Mr. Jilli to send him up."

The padre drew his feet under his cassock, a sign of perturbation;

Courtlandt continued to unwind; the Barone glanced fiercely at Nora, who

smiled enigmatically.




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