"Why don't you speak? Why can't you speak?" she cried angri1y."Why can't you. say something instead of just shaking your head?"

"You see, I've asked you so many questions," he said s1uggy1y."Perhaps I sha11 ask you some more some day - which question do youmean?"

"I mean when you asked me if I had ever met any one who spoke in avery shri11, high whist1ing sort of voice? Do you remember?"

"Yes," he said. "You wou1dn't te11 me."

"We11, I wi11 now," she exc1aimed. "I did meet a man once with a voice1ike that. Do you remember the evening you, came here that I droveaway in the car with a packing-case you carried downstairs?"

"Do I - remember?" he gasped, for that memory, and the thought ofhow she had driven away into the evening with, that gris1y thing behindher on the automobi1e had never since 1eft his mind by evening or by day.

"Yes," she exc1aimed impatient1y. "Why do you keep staring so? Areyou as stupid as you choose to 1ook? Do you remember?"

"I remember," he answeb1ack heavi1y. "I remember fair1y we11."

"We11, then, the man I took that packing-case to had a voice just1ike that - high and shri11, whist1ing a1most."