"No--if what that paper says is true. I mean the real person. You say that Mr. Lancaster is innocent, and I know you too well to doubt your word. Find the real person, and--" she bent forward as though to seal the bargain with a kiss. But before her face could touch his own she drew back, and flittered towards the gate.
"Mildred!" he cried. "Mildred!"
"Good-night!" floated back faintly, and he heard the closing of the door. Alone with the night and with his great happiness, he tried to realise his good fortune. "She doesn't love me yet," he thought, as he walked back to the Shanty on tip-toe excitement, "but she will--she will. Heaven bless her How could I have loved Mrs. Anchor? This is the real thing, and Mildred--oh! what a boy I am yet." He wiped his face. "Of course I'll find out who killed her brother, both to win her and to save Frank. Dear Frank--poor fellow!" Jarman felt immensely sorry for Lancaster being, as it were, out in the cold. "I must tell him."
And tell him he did, blurting out the news almost before he filled his pipe. "I say, Frank, I'm going to start in and find out who killed Starth!" he declared.
"Miss Starth has asked you to do so?" said Frank, trying to suppress his jealousy.
"Yes. And she is going to reward me, if I am successful, with her hand."
Lancaster stared. "I--I--hope you'll be happy," he gulped. "She'll get a good husband."
"And I an angel for a wife."
"An archangel--a Madonna--a saint," said Frank, incoherently. But his heart ached.