Part 25 (1/2)

But even with its aid, his progress toward the boat necessarily consumed a tedious time. It was impossible to favour the injured foot to any great extent. Between occasional halts for rest, Whitaker hobbled with grim determination, suffering exquisitely but privately. The girl considerately schooled her pace to his, subjecting him to covert scrutiny when, as they moved on, his injury interested him exclusively.

He made little or no attempt to converse while in motion; a spirit of bravado alone, indeed, would have enabled him to pay attention to anything aside from the problem of the next step; and bravado was a stranger to his cosmos then, if ever. So she had plenty of opportunity to make up her mind about him.

If her eyes were a reliable index, she found him at least interesting.

At times their expression was enigmatic beyond any rending. Again they seemed openly perplexed. At all times they were warily regardful.

Once she sighed quietly with a pa.s.sing look of sadness of which he was wholly unaware....

”Odd--about that fellow,” he observed during a halt. ”I was sure I knew him, both times--last night as well as to-day.”

”Last night?” she queried with patent interest.

”Oh, yes: I meant to tell you. He was prowling round the bungalow--Ember's, I mean--when I first saw him. I chased him off, lost him in the woods, and later picked him up again just at the edge of your grounds. That's why I thought it funny that he should be over here this morning, shadowing you--as they say in detective stories.”

”No wonder!” she commented sympathetically.

”And the oddest thing of all was that I should be so sure he was Drummond--until I saw--”

”Drummond!”

”Friend of mine.... You don't by any chance know Drummond, do you?”

”I've heard the name.”

”You must have. The papers were full of his case for a while. Man supposed to have committed suicide--jumped off Was.h.i.+ngton Bridge a week before he was to marry Sara Law, the actress?”

”Why ... yes. Yes, I remember. But.... 'Supposed to have committed suicide'--did you say?”

He nodded. ”He may have got away with it, at that. Only, I've good reason to believe he didn't.... I may as well tell you: it's no secret, although only a few people know it: Ember saw Drummond, or thinks he did, alive, in the flesh, a good half-hour after the time of his reported suicide.”

”Really!” the girl commented in a stifled voice.

”Oh, for all that, there's no proof Ember wasn't misled by an accidental resemblance--no real proof--merely circ.u.mstantial evidence. Though for my part, I'm quite convinced Drummond still lives.”

”How very curious!” There was nothing more than civil but perfunctory interest in the comment. ”Are you ready to go on?”

And another time, when they were near the boat:

”When do you expect Mr. Ember?” asked the girl.

”To-night, probably. At least, he wired yesterday to say he'd be down to-night. But from what little I've seen of him, you can never be sure of Ember. He seems to lead the sedentary and uneventful life of a flea on a hot griddle.”

”I shall be glad to see him,” said the girl in what Whitaker thought a curious tone. ”Please tell him, will you? Don't forget.”

”If that's the way you feel about him, I shall be tempted to wire him not to come.”

”Just what do you mean by that?” asked the woman sharply, a glint of indignation in her level, challenging stare.

”Merely that your tone sounded a bit vindictive. I thought possibly you might want to have it out with him, for the sin of permitting me to infest this neck o' the woods.”