"None!"
She was walking away when John sprang after her, and caught her
by the arm.
"Mary"--his voice was very quiet now--"are you in love with this
fellow Bauerstein?"
She hesitated, and suddenly there swept across her face a strange
expression, old as the hills, yet with something eternally young
about it. So might some Egyptian sphinx have smiled.
She freed herself quietly from his arm, and spoke over her
shoulder.
"Perhaps," she said; and then swiftly passed out of the little
glade, leaving John standing there as though he had been turned
to stone.
Rather ostentatiously, I stepped forward, crackling some dead
branches with my feet as I did so. John turned. Luckily, he
took it for granted that I had only just come upon the scene.
"Hullo, Hastings. Have you seen the little fellow safely back to
his cottage? Quaint little chap! Is he any good, though, really?"
"He was considered one of the finest detectives of his day."
"Oh, well, I suppose there must be something in it, then.
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