GEORGE BARR MCUTCHEON 
Cepyright 1986, Dodd Mead & Co. 
[CONTINUED.} 
*Yes, | know them,” she said uneasi- 
ly. “Good heavens, what a fool I’ve 
been!”” she added, starting to her feet. 
“Il might have known they’ll say all 
sorts of terrible things They must 
not find me here. Mr. Shaw, I’m—l 
am so ashamed—I wonder what you 
are thinking of me.” Her lip trembled, 
and there was such a pleading look in 
her dark eyes that be controlled him- 
self with difficulty {t was only by 
imposing the severest restraint upon 
his susceptibilities that he was able to 
approach her calmly. 
“IT can’t tell you now—not here—what 
lam thinking. Itisn’t the place. May- 
be—maybe you can read my thought, 
Penel—Miss Drake. Look up, please. 
Can’t you read—oh, there now—I beg 
your pardon! You come to me for pro- 
tection and I—well, don’t be too hard 
on me just yet. [’ll find the time and 
place to tell you.” He drew away al- 
most as his band was ready to clasp 
hers—al! because her sweet eyes met 
his trustingly—he could have sworn— 
lovingly 
“Just now | am a poor little repro- 
bate.” she sighed ever so miserably. 
“You are very good I'll not forget.” 
“T'll not permit you to forget.” he 
said eagerly 
“Isn’t the housekeeper a long time in 
toming?” she asked quickly He 
laughed contentedly 
“We've no reason to worry about her. 
It’s the pursuers from Bazelhurst that 
should trouble us. Won't you tell me 
the whole story?” And she told him 
everything, sitting there beside him 
with a hot drink in her band and a 
growing shame in her heart It was 
dawning upon her with alarming force 
that she wus exposing a hitherto un- 
known incentive. It was not a com- 
fortable awakening. ‘And you cham- 
ion me to that extent?” he cried joy- 
ously She nodded bravely and went 
on. 
“So here | am.” she said in conclv- 
sion “I renily could not have walked 
to Ridgely tonight. could 1?” 
“T should say not.” 
“And there was really nowhere else 
to come but here?” dubiously 
“See that light over there up the 
en na SS 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
mountain?” he asked. leading her to a 
window. “Old mun Grimes and his 
wife live up there. They keep a light 
burning all night to scare Renwood’s 
ghost away. By Jove, the storm will 
be upon us in a minute. I thought it 
had blown around us.” ~The roll of 
thunder came up the valley. ‘‘Thank 
heaven you're safe indoors. Let them 
pursue if they like. I'll hide you if 
they come, and the servants are close 
mouthed.” 
“T don’t like the way you put it, Mr. 
Shaw.” 
“Hello, hello—the house!” came a 
shout from the wind ridden night out- 
side. Two hearts inside stopped beat- 
ing for a second or two. She caught 
her breath sharply as she clasped his 
arm. 
“They are after me!” she gasped. 
“They must not find you here. Real- 
ly, Miss Drake, I mean it. They would 
not understand. Come with me. Go 
down this hall quickly. It leads to the 
garden back of the house. There’s a 
gun room at the end of the hall. Go in 
there, to your right. Here, take this! 
It’s an electric saddle lantern. [11 
head these fellows off They shan’t 
find you. Don’t be alarmed.” 
She sped down the narrow hall, and 
he, taking time to slip into a long 
dressing coat. stepped out upon the 
porch in response to the now prolong- 
ed and impatient shouts. 
“Who’s there?” he shouted. The light 
from the windows revealed several 
horsemen in the roadway. 
“Friends,” came back through the 
wind. ‘‘Let usin out of the storm. It’s 
a terror.” 
“T don’t know you.” There was a 
shout of laughter and some profanity. 
“Oh, yes you do, Mr. Shaw. Open 
up and let usin. It’s Dave Rank and 
Ed Hunter. We can’t make the cabin 
before the rain.” Shaw could see 
their faces now and then by the flash- 
es of iightning, and he recognized the 
two woodsmen, who doubtless had 
been visiting sweethearts up toward 
Ridgely. 
“Take your horses to the stable, boys, 
and come in.” he called, laughing 
heartily. Then he hurried off to the 
gun room. He passed Mrs. Ulrich com- 
ing downstairs yawning prodigiously. 
He called to her to wait for him in the 
library. 
There was no one in the gun room. 
The door leading to the back porch 
was open. With an exclamation he 
leaped outside and looked about him. 
“Good heavens!” he cried, stagger- 
ing back. 
Far off in the night, a hundred yards 
or more up the road, leading to Grimes’ 
cabin he saw the wobbling, uncertain 
flicker of a light wending its way like 
a will-o’-the-wisp through the night. 
Without a moment’s, hesitation and 
with something strangely like an oath, 
he rushed into the house, almost up- 
setting the housekeeper in his haste. 
“Visitors outside. Make’ em com- 
fortable. Back soon,” be jerked out 
as he changed his coat with small re- 
spect for his injured arm. Then he 
clutched a couple of raincoats from the 
rack and fiew out of the back door like 
a man suddenly gone mad. 
CHAPTER VIII. 
In Which a Ghost Trespasses, 
HE impulse which drove Penel 
ope out for the second time 
that night may be readily ap- 
preciated. Its foundation wag 
fear Its subordinate emotions were 
shame, self pity and consciousness of 
her real feeling toward the man of the 
house. The true spirit of womanhood 
revolted with its usual waywardness. 
She was flying down the stony road, 
some distance from the cottage, in the 
very face of the coming tornado, het 
heart beating like a triphammer, her 
eyes bent on the little light up the 
mouwmtain side, befere it occurred ta 
her that this last flight was not only 
senseless but perilous. She even laugh: 
ed at herself for a foo! as she recalled 
the telltale hand bag on the porch and 
the damning presence of a Bazelhurst 
lantern in the hallway. 
The storm which had been raging 
farther down the valley was at last 
whirling up to the hilltops, long delay: 
ed as if in gleeful anticipation of 
eatching her alone and unprotected. 
The little electric saddle lamp that she 
carried gave out a feeble glow, scarce 
opening the way in the darkness more 
than ten feet ahead. Rough and irk- 
some was the road, most stubborn the 
wall of wind. The second threat of 
the storm was more terrifying than 
the first. At any instant it was likely 
to break forth in all its slashing fury, 
and she knew not whither she went. 
Even as she lost heart and was 
ready to turn wildly back in an effort 
to reach Shaw’s home before the 
deluge the lightning flashes revealed 
to her the presence of a dwelling just 
off the road not 200 feet ahead. She 
stumbied forward, crying like a fright- 
ened child. There were no lights. The 
house looked dark, bleak, unfriendly. 
Farther up the hillside still gleamed 
the little light that was meant to keep 
Renwood’s ghost from disturbing the 
slumbers of old man Grimes and his 
wife. She could not reach that light, 
that much she knew. Her feet were 
like hundredweights, her limbs almost 
devoid of power. Grimes’ hut appear- 
ed to be a couple of miles away. 
With a last, breathless effort she turn- 
ed off the road and floundered through 
weeds and brush until she came to 
what proved to be the rear of the 
darkened house. Long, low, rangy, it 
reached off into the shadows, chilling 
fn its loneliness. There was no time 
Yeft for her to climb the flight of steps 
and pound on the back door. The rain 
was swishing in the trees with a hiss 
that forbade delay. 
She threw herself, panting and ter- 
ror stricken, into the cavelike opening 
4 
| 
i 
i 
» be memes 
a st 
