Mark made up his mind to profit by the suspicion.
"Good morning, Saunders. You are thinking of the lady in the veil?"
But Saunders was already back in his shell. He looked puzzled. "Veil? Lady? Oh, yes. Sure I am. It would be very ungallant to forget her. She's too pretty."
"How do you know? You didn't see her face."
"I was just guessing. We Yankees are good at guessing. Don't you English concede that?"
"Guessing and wooden nutmegs," said Mark, "both go with the Yankee character."
"Guessing, wooden nutmegs, and a little taste of Brandywine thrown in for flavor."
"Very unkind of you to throw our defeats in our teeth--and especially into mine; for you know that I am half Irish, and we Irish helped you."
Saunders laughed as they approached the desk together.
"Letter for you, Mr. Griffin," said the clerk, throwing a square envelope on the desk.
Saunders just glanced at it before Mark himself saw that the letter was without a stamp; it had come by messenger. The detective turned his back to hide a smile, then walked to the reading table and picked up a paper.
Mark opened his letter. It was from the lady of the tree--only a few lines--an invitation to tea that afternoon at the house behind the great wall. Twice he read it over.
"Dear Mr. Griffin: Monsignore is coming to tea at four o'clock to-day. Won't you come with him? He likes you--that I know--and he always looks lonesome when he comes alone, with only two women to talk to. Sincerely, Ruth Atheson."
That was all. The letter went into Mark's pocket as he saw Saunders looking over the top of his paper.
"Getting acquainted in Sihasset pretty quickly, eh?" ventured the detective.
"Yes," replied Mark, "bad pays get acquainted fast." The reply was obviously inadequate, but Mark wanted the detective to know. Saunders took the bait, hook and all.
"Sihasset's getting up in the world," he commented. "Square, tinted envelopes for bills were just coming in at New York two weeks ago."
Both gentlemen were evidently quite pleased with themselves. Saunders took the cigar Mark offered, and they sat talking over first editions until ten.
"Going out?" Saunders asked, as Mark threw away his cigar and rose. Something in his tone made Mark think he wanted him to go. Why?
"Just for a little while. Want to go?"
"No, I'm going to write letters. I'll go out later."
Mark understood. Saunders suspected him to be an accomplice of the woman and intended to search his room. Mark thought quickly. Immediate action was necessary; there were important papers in his room, and he didn't care to have his identity known just now. Then he smiled cheerfully, for his whole plan of action was suddenly clear. Not only would he guard his papers, but he'd keep the detective guessing--guessing hard. He walked to the desk and addressed the clerk: "Has any of the town banks a safety deposit vault for the public?"