"Yes. If it's he and not his ghost you saw. I'll get him to walk along the road with me, out of earshot from his wife."
The gray limousine slowed, and carefully stopped. The chauffeur had been told that, for his life, he must not let the car jolt or jerk.
Justin kissed his bride of a few hours good-bye for a few minutes, and jumped out.
While Clo kissed her hand, almost timidly, because Justin had kissed it, Justin himself walked on to the other car.
"You!" exclaimed Dolores Heron. "So it was you in the limousine that hailed us? Funny I didn't recognize your voice, but the chauffeur's tinkering made such a noise——"
O'Reilly was about to ask for Heron when Dolores introduced him to Mr. Hammersley-Fisher. "He's our host at Narragansett, and is taking us over to Roger Sands,'" she said. "Jack's in the car, very bored. I believe he's gone to sleep."
"No, he hasn't," Heron's voice answered rather testily, for he secretly disliked Dolores' habit of calling him "Jack." "He's only waiting for a chance to speak!"
O'Reilly went to the window of the car, and shook hands with his friends.
"It's not possible that you're going to the Sands'?" Heron said.
"I should have made the same remark about you a few days ago," retorted O'Reilly. "But—circumstances have altered cases with us both."