It was Mrs. Johnson, Miss Stone’s companion.
The Indians eased down the sedan, and, as Miss Stone stepped out, quickly carried it away to the rear of the château, Ogima Bush striding away with them.
“Josie!” cried the elder woman as she embraced the other. “I was really beginning to think something had happened.”
Bewildered, the girl looked into the face of her friend. “Happened?” she echoed. “I should say something has happened. I never dreamed of meeting you here.”
“Why Josie, dear, what’s wrong? Didn’t you send word for me to come yesterday morning?”
“I send word? I never sent any such word: I didn’t know I was coming myself!”
“Well, for the land’s sake! They came after you had gone away with Mr. Hammond yesterday morning and told me you were moving right away back to a bungalow in the mountain. Mr. Smith said—”
“Mr. Smith—the superintendent? Was he there?”
“Why, yes, Josie. It was he who suggested that it would much facilitate matters if I came here first to see that the Indian help set the bungalow in order. He was awfully nice about it, and they took me around the other side of the point in his motorboat. Then the Indians carried me up in that sedan to the entrance you came through to-day.”
“Well!” It was all Josephine Stone could say for her pent-up indignation. So this was Acey Smith’s work!