Anthy herself opened the door. Nort stepped in quickly and, for a moment, was unable to say a word. Anthy retreated a step or two.
"I tell you, Miss Doane," said Nort explosively, "the only way to make a success of the Star is to publish the truth about Hempfield——"
At that moment Nort happened to glance through the wide door of the library. It was a comfortable, old-fashioned room, and the evening being a little cool a cheerful fire was blazing on the hearth. In a low chair under the light, seeming perfectly at home, sat Ed Smith.
The words died on Nort's lips. He stood for a moment rigid and silent, facing Anthy. Ed had turned his head and was looking at them. No one uttered a sound.
Nort was never able afterward to account for what he did at that moment. He turned quickly, still without saying a word, rushed out of the house, ran down the steps, fell over a honeysuckle bush, picked himself up again, bumped into the gate—and found himself in the middle of the road, in the dark, bare-headed.
