"Yes, the tree," acknowledged Mr. Sloan. "That, or a fall. Let us
hope it was not a fall."
As he ceased, a long screech from an approaching locomotive woke
up the echoes of the forest. It was answered by another from the
opposite direction. Both trains were on time. The relief felt by
Reuther could not be concealed. The detective noticed it.
"I'm wasting time here," said he. "Excuse me, Mr. Black, if I push
on ahead of you. If we don't meet at the station, we shall meet in
Shelby."
Mr. Black's mouth twisted grimly. He had no doubt of the latter
fact.
Next minute, they were all cantering in the one direction; the
detective very much in the advance.
"Let me go with you to the station," entreated Reuther, as Mr.
Black held up his arms to lift her from her horse at the door of
the hotel.
But his refusal was peremptory. "You need Miss Weeks, and Miss
Weeks needs you," said he. "I'll be back in just five minutes."
And without waiting for a second pleading look, he lifted her
gently off and carried her in.
When he returned, as he did in the time specified, he had but one
word for her.
"Gone," said he.
"Thank God!" she murmured and turned to Miss Weeks with a smile.
Not having a smile to add to hers, the lawyer withdrew.
Oliver was gone--but gone north.
XXXII
THE VIGIL
When Mr. Black came into Shelby, he came alone. He was anxious to
get back; anxious to face his enemies if he had any; anxious to
see Deborah and explain.
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