No one had noticed it until then. Miss Marcia was quite aghast, for she seldom ventured out in the rain and she had brought no adequate wraps. But Leslie settled that question speedily. “I’ll take Rags and run up the beach to our bungalow and bring them to you, if Phyllis will lend me her slickers,” she declared. “No, you mustn’t come with me, Ted. I’ll be perfectly safe with Rags, and while I’m gone, you can all be giving that Beethoven sonata that you promised Aunt Marcia. I won’t be fifteen minutes.”
They finally let her go and settled down to the music once more. She was much more than fifteen minutes in returning, but no one noticed it, so deeply immersed were they in the rendering of the sonata. At last, however, she was back, breathless and dripping and with a curious light in her eye that no one noticed but Phyllis.
“What is it?” Phyllis managed to whisper, when the others were talking and putting on wraps.
“Just this,” replied Leslie, breathlessly and jerkily. “While I was in the house—I happened—to look out of my window—as I often do,—no light in my room—and I saw—that light again next door! Rags saw it too—at least he growled in that queer way. I waited and watched a long time—I wanted to go out nearer the place—but didn’t dare. Then it disappeared and I didn’t see it—any more. Then I came on here.”
Phyllis listened to the whispered, jerky sentences in a thrilled silence. Then she replied: “I’m coming up first thing to-morrow morning—early! But watch out the rest of the night—if you can!”
Phyllis was as good as her word—better, in fact, for she was actually knocking at the door of Rest Haven before Leslie was out of bed, much to Miss Marcia’s astonishment.
“Did you see anything else?” was her first whispered greeting.
But Leslie shook her head. “There wasn’t another thing happened. I watched nearly all night—till I fell asleep at the window, in fact!”
“Well, something happened at some time or other!” replied Phyllis, provocatively.
“How do you know?” demanded Leslie, in a twitter.