The party broke up at last, and she managed to get away without even an explanation to Dot of the mysterious contents of the telegram.
She paused in the living room of her own bungalow only long enough to give Mike O’Malley the facts and the names of the contestants in the hunt, for the young man was returning to Grand Rapids. With a sigh of relief, she rushed up to her own room, and locked the door, there to try to come to some decision.
But the conclusion she came to was not at all to Lord Dudley’s liking, as he learned to his dismay after supper, when he came over to take her canoeing.
“My plan is this, Linda dear,” he said, as they pushed off from the shore: “Take me as your passenger in the hunt on Saturday—win the prize, as, of course, you will—and instead of returning, simply elope in the autogiro. We can wire your aunt from the nearest city, wherever that happens to be, when we are married. Doesn’t the romance of that appeal to you?” he asked, rapturously.
Linda slowly shook her head.
“I couldn’t, Lord Dudley——” she began.
“Please call me ‘Claude!’” he pleaded.
She smiled.
“Well, then—Claude—I couldn’t. First of all, I’ve promised to take Harriman Smith on the flight——”
“Shucks!” he interrupted, abandoning his usual dignity.