Dark Hollow

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by Anna Katharine Green


  XXIX

  "THERE IS BUT ONE THING TO DO"

  A night of stars, seen through swaying tree-tops whose leaves crispingto their fall, murmured gently of vanished hopes and approaching death.

  Below, a long, low building with a lighted window here and there,surrounded by a heavy growth of trees which are but the earnest of theillimitable stretch of the Adirondack woods which painted darkness onthe encircling horizon.

  In the air, one other sound beside the restless murmur I havementioned,--the lap, lap of the lake whose waters bathed the bank whichsupported this building.

  Such the scene without.

  Within, Reuther seated in the glow of a hospitable fire of great logs,talking earnestly to Mr. Black. As they were placed, he could see hermuch better than she could see him, his back being to the blaze and she,in its direct glare.

  He could, therefore, study her features, without offence, and this hedid, steadily and with deep interest, all the while she was talking. Hewas looking for signs of physical weakness or fatigue; but he foundnone. The pallor of her features was a natural pallor, and in theirexpression, new forces were becoming apparent, which give himencouragement, rather than anxiety, for the adventure whose most tryingevents lay still before them.

  Crouching low on the hearth could be seen the diminutive figure of MissWeeks. She had no time to waste even in a solitude as remote as this,and was crocheting busily by the firelight. Her earnestness gavecharacter to her features which sometimes lacked significance. Reutherloved to glance at her from time to time, as she continued herconversation with Mr. Black.

  This is what she was saying:

  "I cannot point to any one man of the many who have been about us eversince we started north. But that we have been watched and our routefollowed, I feel quite convinced. So does Miss Weeks. But, as you saw,no one besides ourselves left the cars at this station, and I ambeginning to hope that we shall remain unmolested till we can take thetrip to Tempest Lodge. How far is it, Mr. Black?"

  "Twenty-five miles and over a very rough mountain road. Did I notconfidently expect to find Oliver there, I should not let you undertakethis ride. But the inquiries I have just made lead me to hope for thebest results. I was told that yesterday a young man bound for TempestLodge, stopped to buy a large basket of supplies at the village belowus. I could not learn his name and I saw no one who could describe him;but the fact that any one not born in these parts should choose toisolate himself so late in the year as this, in a place consideredinaccessible after the snow flies, has roused much comment."

  "That looks as if--as if--"

  "As if it were Oliver. So it does; and if you feel that you can ride sofar, I will see that horses are saddled for us at an early hourto-morrow morning."

  "I can ride, but will Oliver be pleased to see us at Tempest Lodge. Mr.Black, I had an experience in Utica which makes it very hard for me tocontemplate obtruding myself upon him without some show of permission onhis part. We met--that is, I saw him and he saw me; but he gave me noopportunity--that is, he did not do what he might have done, had hefelt--had he thought it best to exchange a word with me."

  "Where was this? You were not long in Utica?"

  "Only one night. But that was long enough for me to take a walk down oneof the principal thoroughfares and it was during this walk I saw him. Hewas on the same side of the street as myself and rapidly coming my way,but on his eye meeting mine--I could not mistake that unconscious flashof recognition--he wheeled suddenly aside into a cross-street where Idared not follow him. Of course, he did not know what hung on even amomentary interview. That it was not for myself I--" The firelightcaught something new to shine upon--a tear on lashes which yet refusedto lower themselves.

  Mr. Black fidgeted, then put out his hand and laid it softly on hers.

  "Never mind," he grumbled; "men are--" he didn't say what; but it wasn'tanything very complimentary. "You have this comfort," said he: "the manat the Lodge is undoubtedly Oliver. Had he gone West, he wouldn't havebeen seen in Utica three days ago."

  "I have never had any doubt about that. I expect to see him to-morrow,but I shall find it hard to utter my errand quick enough. There will bea minute when he may misunderstand me. I dread that minute."

  "Perhaps, you can avoid it. Perhaps after you have positively identifiedhim I can do the rest. We will arrange it so, if we can."

  Her eyes flashed gratitude, then took on a new expression. She hadchanced to glance again at Miss Weeks, and Miss Weeks was not lookingquite natural. She was still crocheting, or trying to, but her attitudewas constrained and her gaze fixed; and that gaze was not on her work,but directed towards a small object at her side, which Reutherrecognised from its open lid to be the little lady's work-box.

  "Something is the matter with Miss Weeks," she confided in a low whisperto Mr. Black. "Don't turn; she's going to speak."

  But Miss Weeks did not speak. She just got up, and, with a carelessmotion, stood stretching herself for a moment, then sauntered up to thetable and began showing her work to Reuther.

  "I've made a mistake," she pettishly complained. "See if you can findout what's wrong." And, giving the work into Reuther's hand, she stoodwatching, but with a face so pale that Mr. Black was not astonished whenshe suddenly muttered in a very low tone:

  "Don't move or show surprise. The shade of the window is up, andsomebody is looking in from outside. I saw his face reflected in themirror of my work-box. It isn't any one I know, but he was looking veryfixedly this way and may be looking yet. Now I am going to snatch mywork. I don't think you're helping me one bit."

  She suited the action to the word; shook her head at Reuther and wentback to her old position on the hearth.

  "I was afraid of it," murmured Reuther. "If we take the ride to-morrow,it will not be alone. If, on the other hand, we delay our trip, we maybe forestalled in the errand upon which so much depends. We are not theonly ones who have heard of the strange young man at Tempest Lodge."

  The answer came with quick decision. "There is but one thing for us todo. I will tell you what it is a little later. Go and sit on the hearthwith Miss Weeks, and mind that you laugh and chat as if your minds werequite undisturbed. I am going to have a talk with our host."

 

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