The stranger appeared from behind a freight-car on a siding, and hurried
up to within a few yards of them. From beneath his coat he slipped a
blackish oblong. It gave forth a click, and, after swift manipulation, a
second click. Enderby started toward the snap-shotter who turned and
ran.
"Do you know that man?" he asked, whirling upon Io.
A gray veil seemed to her drawn down over his features. Or was it a mist
of dread upon Io's own vision?
"I have seen him before," she answered, groping.
"Who is he?"
Memory flashed one of its sudden and sure illuminations upon her: a
Saturday night at The House With Three Eyes; this little man coming in
with Tertius Marrineal; later, peering into the flowerful corner where
she sat with Banneker.
"He has something to do with The Patriot," she answered steadily.
"How could The Patriot know of my coming here?'
"I don't know," said Io. She was deadly pale with a surmise too
monstrous for utterance.
He put it into words for her.
"Io, did you tell Errol Banneker that you were sending for me?"
"Yes."
Even in the midst of the ruin which he saw closing in upon his
career--that career upon which Camilla Van Arsdale had newly built her
last pride and hope and happiness--he could feel for the agony of the
girl before him.
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