“Yes,” was the whispered reply. “And, Lee, I'll help you to come through—clean! I believe in you!”
And the tide washed up the shores of the creek so that, even in the darkness, the white sands seemed to gleam.
CHAPTER. XXIII. MOROCCO KATE, ALLY
“Who are you? Who is trailing me? Is that you, LeGrand?”
The challenge came sharply out of the darkness, and Colonel Ashley, who had been following Morocco Kate, plodding along through the sand, stumbling over the hillocks of sedge grass, halted.
“Who's there?” was the insistent demand. “I know some one is following me. Is it you, LeGrand Blossom? Have you—have you—”
The voice died out in a choking sob. “She's gamer than I thought,” mused the detective. “And, strange as it may seem, I believe she cares.” Then he answered, almost as gently as to a grieving child:
“It is not LeGrand Blossom. But it is a friend of his, and I want to be a friend to you. Wait a moment.”
Then, as he came close to her side and flashed on his face a gleam from an electric torch he always carried, she started back, and cried: