He nodded. “I’ll hide. Stop. If you are questioned, you don’t know I’m here. You must say so for your own sake, not for mine.”
She was gone before he had finished. De Spain drew quickly back to where he could secrete himself. In another moment he heard heavy footsteps where he had stood with his visitor. But the footsteps crossed the ledge, and their 198 sound died away up the path Nan had taken. De Spain could not see the intruder. It was impossible to conjecture who he was or what his errand, and de Spain could only await whatever should develop. He waited several minutes before he heard any sign of life above. Then snatches of two voices began to reach him. He could distinguish Nan’s voice and at intervals the heavier tones of a man. The two were descending. In a few moments they reached the ledge, and de Spain, near at hand, could hear every word.
“Hold on a minute,” said the man roughly. His voice was heavy and his utterance harsh.
“I must get home,” objected Nan.
“Hold on, I tell you,” returned her companion. De Spain could not see, but he began already to feel the scene. “I want to talk to you.”
“We can talk going down,” parried Nan.
De Spain heard her hurried footfalls. “No, you don’t,” retorted her companion, evidently cutting off her retreat.
“Gale Morgan!” There was a blaze in Nan’s sharp exclamation. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you and I are going to have this out right here, before we leave this ledge.”
“I tell you, I want to go home.”