"Stay right here, then. Here goes."
Out into the open, where there was still an ominous amount of daylight, dashed Bill Marshall's valet, bent as low as he could manage without sacrificing speed. Mary held her breath and watched. A few seconds and he vanished behind a white curtain that represented a part of the family wash.
To Mary it seemed that there was an interminable interval. Then, with a spooky flutter, the white curtain that hid him seemed to sink into the ground. Another instant and the flying figure of Pete Stearns was approaching. He seemed to be pursued by a long, white snake, writhing close at his heels. And then he was back in the shelter of the trees.
"Help pull on this!" he panted.
And Mary identified the white snake as a clothes line to which was attached garment after garment of ghostly hue. She seized the line and together they raced back toward the rear of the orchard, the snake following.
"Found a sickle and cut the whole line!" he explained. "Quickest way. Help yourself. I'll begin at the other end."
Mary was pulling clothes-pins as rapidly as she could make her fingers fly.
"Don't stop to choose anything here," he warned. "Take everything. We've got to beat it."
So they took everything. Pete made two hasty bundles, thrust one into her arms, picked up the other and started at a lope through the orchard, in a direction opposite to that from which they had come. They came to another hedge that was as forbidding as the one through which they had passed.
He dropped his bundle, dove half-way through the hedge, made a swift inspection of what lay beyond, and then hauled himself back again.