"The name of your quaint and squatty old house is unusual," said Grismer.
"Runner's Rest? Yes, in the Indian wars before the Revolution, the Forest Runners could find food and shelter here. The stone forts defended it and it was never burned."
"You inherited it?"
"Yes. It belonged to a Captain Cleland in those remote days."
There was a long silence. The delicately fresh odour of grey iris became more apparent—a perfume that, somehow, Cleland associated with Stephanie.
Grismer said in a pleasant, listless voice:
"You are a happy man, Cleland."
"Y-yes."
"Here, under the foliage of your forefathers," mused Grismer aloud, "you should rest contented that the honour of an honourable line lies secure in your keeping."
Cleland laughed: