Will you, Mr. Ellery? Will you, honest? Say, by godfreys mighty, I'd
get down on my knees and thank you this minute if--if I wa'n't in such a
hurry. Come right on; come quick!"

It was a silent procession of two that wended its way out of the pines
and across the fields, by the brook and the pond, where the evening
mists were rising and the frogs chanting their good-night song,
through the gathering twilight shades, across the main road and up the
lighthouse lane. Kyan, his mind filled with fearful forebodings, was
busily trying to think of a reasonable excuse for the "accidental"
imprisonment of his sister. John Ellery was thinking, also, but his
thoughts were not of the Peppers.

The little house was dark and still as they approached it. No welcoming
light in the dining-room windows, no open door, no shrill voice
demanding to know where the wandering brother had been "all this
everlastin' time." Even the hens had gone to roost. Abishai groaned.

"Oh, dear!" he wailed. "I'm scart to death. Where is she? You don't
cal'late she's done it, do ye?"

"Done it? Done what?"

"Done the suicidin'. She said she would if--O Laviny!"

"Hush! Be quiet. She's all right. She's in the room where you left her,
of course. She couldn't get out, could she? You've got the key. Come
in."

They entered the house. The dining room was dark and quiet. So was the
sitting room. The clock ticked, solemn and slow. Kyan clutched at his
companion's arm.

"I don't hear her," he whispered. "You don't s'pose she HAS done it?
Godfreys mighty!"

The gloom and mystery were having their effect, even on Mr. Ellery's
nerves. His answer also was given in a tense whisper, but with some
irritation.

"Hush!" he murmured. "Let go of my wrist. You've pinched it black and
blue. Which room did you leave her in? Show me at once."

Kyan's trembling knees managed to carry him to the little hall leading
from the sitting room toward the ell at the side of the house. This hall
was almost pitch black. The minister felt his guide's chin whisker brush
his ear as the following sentence was literally breathed into it:

"Here--here 'tis," panted Kyan. "Here's the door. I don't hear nothin',
do you? Listen!"

They listened. Not a sound, save the dismal tick of the clock in the
room they had left. Ellery knocked on the door.

"Miss Pepper," he said; "Miss Pepper, are you there?"

Kyan caught his breath. No answer.

"Miss Pepper," repeated the minister. "Miss P