“No, no. Let us wait. We must stay till he comes. He won’t be long, I’m sure. I’d rather keep papa—any body—waiting just a little longer than do that. O, how sudden, how strange it all is!”
“Yes, wonderfully strange. But, I tell you, my dear boy, I was specially asked not to lose minutes in bringing you when I found you. Mr. Marcy urged me. They thought Philip might be elsewhere. He’s to come right after us.”
Just then voices were heard in the back room of the hotel.
“Philip! Philip!” called out Gerald, joyfully and clearly, fancying that, even at that distance, he recognized him.
“Stop that! Keep still! Don’t call that way! It’ll only make a fuss! He’s not there!” Jennison exclaimed, angrily.
“Philip!” called Gerald, determinedly, “Philip!”
Jennison sprang forward. He made an effort to seize the lad by the arm or the shoulder. At the same time came a strangely suspicious whirl of the heavy Mackintosh cloak he had carried on one arm. It caught on the table.
Deception and danger! The idea of a shameful lie, and the meaning of the gate and buggy flashed before the boy. He cried out, “Let me go!” to the man, who he now divined was a false and malicious foe, preparing absolutely to abduct him and carry him, heaven knew where, by force! “I wont go,” he cried, sharply.
Jennison attempted to catch his arm again.
“Hold on there!” came a call.