Eva seemed to reflect long, and then shook her head silently.
“Is it possible that they really thought he was Rockett?” Lang surmised, thinking hard; and in the ensuing silence the little clock on the mantel tinkled three times.
“Three o’clock!” he exclaimed. “Too late to talk of all this any longer. You can’t stay here alone. I’ve a car waiting, and I’ll take you back to town with me. Get your things together.”
“No, I’ll stay here, at least till to-morrow night. If father should be found word will probably be sent here. I’m not in the least afraid, and you were the only burglar, after all.”
Lang tried hard to persuade her, but she insisted. He gave up at last. After all, the night was nearly over.
“You’ll be back at the Iberville in Mobile to-morrow without fail, though,” he said. “If you’re not I’ll be out here to bring you. To-morrow I’m sure we’ll have good news.”
He did not feel equal to any more argument or encouragement. Eva jumped up and came after him as he turned to go, holding something in her hand.
“I’m so glad you did come—even as a burglar,” she said, with a faint smile. “You’ve been very kind and cheering, and—here are your keys.”
Lang groped down to the gate in the twilight, and looked back at the lighted window blind. He could not quite make up his mind to leave the girl alone with her grief, nor could he venture to go back. He lingered about the gate, and finally sat down on the ground, with his back against a tree.
The light in the house presently went out. Eva had gone to bed—probably not to sleep. Lang felt an extraordinary tenderness and pity for the girl. She was brave; she had come out boldly with her flash light and revolver when she heard him in the house. Her father was almost surely drowned. He would have to help her through the coming bad days, as she had helped him through his own.