"Did you take your cloak with you?"
"My cloak?" She rose, much agitated. "How do you know that I wore a cloak?"
"You must have had one to take such a journey," I said evasively.
"Yes," replied Gertrude, somewhat reassured; "but--oh!" she gasped, as I displayed the garment I had produced from the portmanteau.
"Yes," I said, unfolding it, "this is the cloak worn by the lady who took my motor car. I found it concealed in the field. And it is your cloak?"
"Yes," she admitted with white lips, "it is my cloak."
[CHAPTER XIII.]
LOVE
We stared at one another for quite sixty seconds: she standing white-faced and tongue-tied near her chair, I kneeling by the open portmanteau to display the cloak. When I would have spoken, she flung up a protesting hand to silence me.
"How do you know it is my cloak?"