“And if I don’t?” he challenged her.
“Finger-prints!” she said. “Footmarks!”
“Oh, well! Confound it.” And he did—the way a bird pecks at a cherry.
She straightened with another giggle. “Our first!” she said.
“Hope you’re satisfied,” he remarked grudgingly.
“It will do for a beginning. Oh, dear! some one saw us!” He looked around with a start, his unresponsive arm slipping from about a pliant waist.
“I don’t see any one.”
“He’s dodged behind a tree. I think it was Dickie. And—yes, there are one or two other men. They—they seem to be dodging, too.” Bob saw them now. One, he was sure, was the commodore.
“Funny performance, isn’t it?” he said, with a sickly smile.
“Perhaps—?” She looked at him with genuine awe in the temperamental eyes. He read her thought; she thought—believed they had “come for him.” She appeared positively startled, and—yes, sedulous! Maybe, she was discovering in herself a little bit of that “really, truly” feeling.