“Oh, I hope so, sir!” she cried, and lighted him to the door.
She stood in the open doorway holding the lamp above her head as he and Reddy started together down the path to the gate. They had almost reached it, when Reddy suddenly paused, rubbed his forehead perplexedly, and then glanced around at the figure in the doorway.
“I’ve got t’ go back a minute,” he said, apologetically. “You go ahead. I’ll ketch up with you.”
Allan walked on slowly, then, at the gate, he looked around. Reddy was holding Mrs. Magraw in his arms, kissing her as tenderly as any lover. The quick moisture sprang to Allan’s eyes; he closed the gate behind him, and started across the yards; for Reddy’s house was perched on an embankment which had been left when the lower yards had been graded down to their present level. A minute later, he heard quick steps behind him and Reddy came running up.
“I jest had t’ go back,” he explained, a little shamefacedly. “I don’t know what it was—but somethin’ kind o’ took me by the elbow an’ steered me around. Mighty queer.”
They walked on together in silence to the freight-house. As soon as they approached it, they were challenged sharply, and stopped by one of the deputies. Stanley, attracted by the noise, came up a moment later and passed them through.
“Nobody can come through that line, day or night, unless I say so,” he explained. “I’m not going to take any chances.”
“That’s right,” agreed Allan heartily. “Mr. Stanley, this is Reddy Magraw.”
“Yes,” said Stanley. “I know him. He’s all right.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’m putting him on the inside to keep his eyes open. He’ll report to you, but you oughtn’t to be seen talking together too much. You’ll report to me, or send him on to me, when you can.”