Jarman felt a jealous pang. He began to think that Mildred loved the boy, seeing how she blushed when she spoke of him. Also her voice faltered, and she seemed embarrassed. At first Eustace almost felt inclined to speak out, and demand if she loved Lancaster; but remembering the position of the young man, and being afraid of the wrath of Mildred, he held his tongue. In silence they moved across the lawn and entered the summerhouse. It was luminous with moonlight, and Eustace saw a faint sparkle of gold, the threads of the Eastern stuffs which draped the walls. Mildred gave a little cough, and repeated it twice. "The signal!" she whispered with her finger on her lips; and in spite of the gravity of the position she seemed quite to enjoy its mystery. In many ways Mildred Starth was still a schoolgirl.
From the other side of the wall came a cough, and this also was repeated twice. Mildred drew aside the drapery and revealed a door.
"I'll leave you now," she murmured. "You can talk to him alone. Come in and see me afterwards," and before Eustace could say a word she was gone. He saw her flit across the lawn in the moonlight, then knocked softly at the door. A key was turned, the door opened, and Frank looked out.
"Who is it?" he whispered.
"Your friend Jarman," said that gentleman, and stepped inside.
It was perfectly dark, save where a slender moonbeam stole in through the high window. Frank gave a gasp of relief, and gripped Eustace's hand in the gloom. They exchanged a hearty handshake, and then Frank pushed forward a chair. As he had been long in the darkness, he was better able to see than Jarman.
"I'm so glad you have come," said Frank, drawing another chair close to that of his friend, so that he could converse in a whisper. "I have been longing for you. You got my letter?"
"Yes. And I am much astonished to find you here."
"I thought it was the best thing I could do," said Lancaster. "After you left, Darrel--"
"I know all about it. But why did he threaten you?"