“Pa! I never did!” half shrieked the queer child.
“Arabella! Here? How strange!” observed the man who had been acting the part of the Beach Plum Point hermit. “My child!”
Mr. Pike could do nothing save in a dramatic way. He seized Bella and hugged her to his bosom in a most stagy manner. But Ruth saw that the man’s gray eyes were moist, that his hands when he seized the girl really trembled, and he kissed Bella with warmth.
“I declare!” exclaimed Mr. Hammond. “So your name is something-or-other-Fitzmaurice Pike?”
“John Pike, if it please you. The other is for professional purposes only,” said Bella’s father. “If you do not mind, sir,” he added, “we will postpone our discussion until a later time. I—I would take my daughter to my poor abode and learn of her experience in getting here to Beach Plum Point.”
“Go as far as you like, Mr. Pike. But remember there has got to be a settlement later of this matter we were discussing,” said the manager sternly.
The actor and his daughter departed, the former giving Ruth a very curious look indeed. Mr. Hammond turned a broad smile upon the girl of the Red Mill.
“What do you know about that?” Mr. Hammond demanded. “Why, Miss Ruth, yours seems to have been a very good guess. That fellow is an old-timer and no mistake.”
“My guess was good in more ways than one,” said Ruth. “I believe I can prove that this Pike was at the Red Mill on the day my scenario was stolen.”
She told the manager briefly of the discovery she had made through the patriarchal old fellow on Reef Island the day before, and of her intention of sending a photograph of Pike back home for identification.