I don't think you're helping me one bit."
She suited the action to the word; shook her head at Reuther and
went back to her old position on the hearth.
"I was afraid of it," murmured Reuther. "If we take the ride to-
morrow, it will not be alone. If, on the other hand, we delay our
trip, we may be forestalled in the errand upon which so much
depends. We are not the only ones who have heard of the strange
young man at Tempest Lodge."
The answer came with quick decision. "There is but one thing for
us to do. I will tell you what it is a little later. Go and sit on
the hearth with Miss Weeks, and mind that you laugh and chat as if
your minds were quite undisturbed. I am going to have a talk with
our host."
XXX
TEMPEST LODGE
"What's that?"
"That's the cry of a loon."
"How awful! Do they often cry like that?"
"Not often in the nighttime."
Reuther shuddered.
Mr. Black regarded her anxiously. Had he done wrong to let her
join him in this strange ride?
"Shall we go back and wait for broad daylight?" he asked.
"No, no. I could not bear the suspense of wondering whether all
was going well and the opportunity being given you of seeing and
speaking to him. We have taken such precautions--chosen so late
(or should I say so early) a start--that I'm sure we have
outwitted the man who is so watchful of us. But if we go back, we
cannot slip away from him again; and Oliver will have to submit to
an humiliation it is our duty to spare him.
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