“Well,” Keeley began, as we arranged ourselves comfortably on the glass-enclosed porch and prepared for a confab, “our impulsive friend here has gone and done it now!”
The two women gave me a quick look, and Lora, with her uncanny intuition, said:
“When is the wedding, Gray?”
“As soon as it can be arranged,” I declared, stoutly, for I wasn’t going to be secretive about this matter, anyway. “But don’t plan for it yet, Lora, for the lady hasn’t by any means said yes. It’s only, so far, that ‘Barkis is willin’.’”
“It is serious,” Keeley said, slowly. “It’s all serious, and getting more so every minute. I say, you’ll have to excuse me, I’ve got to go on an errand.”
He rose hastily and gathering up his hat and coat, started off down the road.
“Kee’s on the warpath for sure,” declared Lora. “What happened at Whistling Reeds, Gray?”
“Nothing much—or, yes, I suppose there were developments. Better wait till Kee comes back. He went over the house on a searching bout.”
“Did he find anything?”
“I don’t know, but I doubt if he found anything as important as I did. You girls may as well know, first as last, I found—that is—I was given—oh, pshaw, here it is—Alma asked me to destroy a book for her, and it was a copy of that book that has in it the story of The Nail.”