ed.

"He wasn't there when I entered the house--at least I don't think he
was. I heard him below, after I had gone up-stairs. I came down then
and saw him. He was going through Mr. Corvet's things--not the silver
and all that, but through his desks and files and cases. He was
looking for something--something which he seemed to want very much;
when I interfered, it greatly excited him."

They had turned back from the bridge and were returning along the way
that they had come; but now she stopped and looked up at him.

"What happened when you 'interfered'?"

"A queer thing."

"What?"

"I frightened him."

"Frightened him?" She had appreciated in his tone more significance
than the casual meaning of the words.

"He thought I was a ghost."

"A ghost. Whose ghost?"

He shrugged. "I don't know; some one whom he seemed to have known
pretty well--and whom Mr. Corvet knew, he thought."

"Why didn't you tell us this before?"

"At least--I am telling you now, Miss Sherrill. I frightened him, and
he got away. But I had seen him plainly. I can describe him....
You've talked with your father of the possibility that something might
'happen' to me such as, perhaps, happened to Mr. Corvet. If anything
does happen to me, a description of the man may ... prove useful."

He saw the color leave her face, and her eyes brighten; he accepted
this for agreement on her part. Then clearly and definitely as he
could, he described Spearman to her. She did not recognize the
description; he had known she would not. Had not Spearman been in
Duluth? Beyond that, was not connection of Spearman with the prowler
in Corvet's house the one connection of all most difficult for her to
make? But he saw her fixing and recording the description in her mind.

They were silent as they went on toward her home. He had said all he
could, or dared to say; to tell her that the man had been Spearman
would not merely have awakened her incredulity; it would have destroyed
credence utterly. A definite change in their relation to one another
had taken place during their walk. The fullness, the frankness of the
sympathy there had been between them almost from their first meeting,
had gone; she was quite aware, he saw, that he had not frankly answered
her questions; she was aware that in some way he had drawn back from
her and shut her out from his thoughts about his own position here.
But he had known that this must be so; it had been his