“Yes.”
“What for?”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t know—exactly. I was always fond of bees. They’re so useful”—she looked up artlessly—“so clever—quite wonderful, Colonel. Have you ever read anything about bees—how they live and conduct themselves?”
The Colonel eyed her narrowly; she laughed, sprang up from the military chest, and handed back his letters.
“You have already formed your theory?” he inquired with a faintly patronizing air, under which keen disappointment betrayed itself where the grim, drooping mouth tightened.
“Yes, I have. There’s a link missing, but—I may find that before night. You can give me—how long?”
“The Bucktails leave at nine. See here, Messenger! With all the civility and respect due you, I——”
“You are bitterly disappointed in me,” she finished coolly. “I don’t blame you, Colonel Gay.”
He was abashed at that, but unconvinced.