" He pointed to the grave.
"No; I suppose not. Why?"
"Because Miss Brewster has a right to know."
"Do you propose to tell her?"
"Yes."
"Very well," agreed the scientist, after a pause for
consideration. "But not until after the yacht is at sea."
Carroll did not reply directly to this.
"What shall you do?"
"Get out, if I can. I'm ordered to Curacao. Wisner left word for
me."
"Come down the mountain with me."
"Impossible. There are matters here to be attended to."
"Then when will you come down?"
"Before you sail. I must be sure that you get off."
"You'll come to the yacht, then?"
"No."
"I think you should. There are reasons why--why--Miss Brewster--"
"It isn't a question that I can argue," the other cut him off. "I
can't do it." There was so much pain in his voice that Carroll
forbore to press him. "But I'll ask you to take a note."
Carroll nodded, and his host, disappearing within the quinta,
returned almost at once with an envelope on which the address was
written in pencil. The Southerner took it and rose from the porch,
where he had flung himself to rest.
Pages:
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234