The Flaming Jewel
"It's a wonder what a decent woman will stand," observed Stormont. "Ninety-nine per cent. of all wives ought to receive the D. S. O."
"Do you think we're so rotten?" inquired Lannis, smiling.
"Not so rotten. No. But any man knows what men are. And it's a wonder women stick to us when they learn."
They laughed. Lannis glanced at his watch again.
"Well," he said, "I don't believe anybody has tipped off our man. It's noon. Come on to dinner, Jack."
They cantered forward into the sunlit clearing. Star Pond lay ahead. On its edge stood Clinch's.
Clinch, in his shirt sleeves, came out on the veranda. He had little light grey eyes, close-clipped grey hair, and was clean shaven.
"How are you, Clinch," inquired Lannis affably.
"All right," replied Clinch; "you're the same, I hope."
"Trooper Stormont, Mr. Clinch," said Lannis in his genial way.
"Pleased to know you," said Clinch, le